Duality
by Joelcoxriley
Summary: When Mathieu Bellamont is ripped from the darkness of the Void, he finds himself in Skyrim during the Fourth Era: Two hundred years after his slaying. Six months after his awakening, the Breton attempts to move on from the darkness of his past. However, when he sees a woman once long lost in his memories, a storm kicks up inside him. *Updates on Wednesdays*
1. Reunion

**Hello! Private RP turned Forum RP turned story! All characters belong to their rightful owners. This story takes place roughly six months after Bellamont was ripped from the Void.**

**The writer for Bellamont is Vinessa S, who has written the best representation of Mathieu I personally have ever seen. Feel free to check out Vinessa's stories as well, which the primise of this narrative is based on with a mix of some forum elements.**

**Story will eventually up to Mature rating due to violence and sexually mature scenes.**

**Thank you for checking this out and please enjoy! **

* * *

It was yet another lively, bustling night in Whiterun's inn, the Bannered Mare. Being the provinces main trading center, Whiterun had much business running through it daily, be it anyone from merchant to adventurer to humble farmer, all venturing from their distant residences to stop by the city. Thus, the inns were packed by evening. Sometimes one could barely see the floor below the swathes of people. It could take more than an hour discerning every face from another - much less those that are familiar, or those you planned to see.

Which made a simple job quite frustrating for Mathieu.

When the breton first entered the Bannered Mare, he was constantly pardoning and wading through the crowd until he found space. A single empty chair, tucked in a corner near the back of the room. He sat down. Crossed his arms, a deadpan expression on his face, and started assessing each of those faces in the crowd. Now where was this "informant" Isran ordered him to meet?

An Elven man of Dunmer race ebbed and flowed through the buzzing crowd, merry songs of glory and combat chortling through the livey air. The stale scent of ale was rife in the room, and many times the Dunmer man was in danger of getting his clothes drenched with alcohol from an unsteady Nordic hand.

Despite this, the Dunmer himself sported a drink, roomwarm ale held within the cool metal of a cup, which his free hand promptly defended. The man sported a blue skinned hue, however, was searching for someone. A hunter. Or, more specifically, a hunter from the Dawnguard.

Though it was fairly difficult to find anyone in the packed tavern, the Dunmer man figured a vampire slayer would be easy to find. After a bit of searching, the Elven man spied a Breton male within a lonely corner of the room, sitting in a chair.

The man figured this odd fellow was who he was looking for. Those of the Dawnguard always seemed to be the broody type.

With that, the Dunmer approached, taking a careful swig of his ale as he approached, lips touching the smooth metal rim of his cup. Only once he was done , did the man speak, "You one of Isran's hunters, eh?"

Mathieu looked up at the dunmer, a small smirk on his lips. Well, at least he was more fortunate this time. "Yes, I am. I can assume you're the one he told me to meet?" He spoke in a hushed tone, as so that nobody will overhear, though with tangle of voices in room he highly doubted they would anyway.

"Aye. Sounds right." The man spoke, taking to lean against the nearby wall, "Your kind is a lot more easy to spot than I thought. Them gloomy types, you know?"

"But, I'm sure you got more important things to do than talk to me, yeah?" The Dunmer commented, taking a brief sip of his alcohol, "There's a local farm nearby. Have a lot of steer. But lately, their cattle have been winding up dead by morning. You can guess why. It's quiet. No one hears anything. But the family there claimes they saw a loiter around lately. Black robes, missing eye. Assumed female. The farm is nearby, and hard to miss. The ground there is still flushed red from all the cattle."

"Ah, I see..." Mathieu said, "Then I suppose I'll have to take a trip over there sometime. Pay them a, visit. Anything else I should be aware of? About their... "Friend"?"

"Nothing I assume you hunter types can't handle. Though, the family has been concerned they could be harmed. Just check on 'em, yeah? They'll know more. Maybe you might get lucky, and their friend will come to you?" The Dunmer suggested.

Mathieu nodded, and stood up, "Thanks for the information." Quickly he reached down and produced a small handful of gold from his satchel. He handed them to the dark elf and, without another word, started his way through the crowd and out the inn, all too eager to escape the city and set out to burying a hatchet in this vampire's skull.

Whiterun's tundra wasn't the most ideal area for travel unnoticed, but Mathieu had the darkness of night to aid him. And there were also his black robes. They were nothing like his previous set, which would make him appear as little more than a shadow due to their enchantments, but they were good enough. So he prowled down the plains, blending with the shadows as he approached the farmstead. The breton lunged, pressed his back to the side of the farmhouse. He then surveyed the area, glancing around corners for any sign of this farm's loiter, and waited.

The stillness of the night was almost peaceful, despite the bitter cold. Though no loiter could be seen not. After some time, a scream resonated not from the rolling hills of the tundra, but from inside the farmstead.

The sudden scream from within the very walls Mathieu leaned against broke his focus instantly, just as it did the silence.

"Shit!" He cursed under his breath. It'd be foolish to risk the time in running to the other side of the house and breaking the door open, so he opted for right beside him; war axe in hand, Mathieu spun to the tall yet narrow window at his side. A step back, he wound up, and - SMASH! - glass shards fell away as he rammed his elbow into the window pane, a couple more swifter strikes soon giving him a point of entry. He vaulted through the window - uncaring of the cuts he'd receive from the jutting remains of it - and landed before the unfolding chaos.

Inside, the home would appear almost normal. If not for a man tied upon a chair in the center of the room. Golden strands of hair lay cast astrew around him, his body limp and lightly punctured with what appeared to be the very tip of a blade-which clearly would not be fatal. Blood lazily trickled down his body, crimson pooling upon the wooden floor. His wrists were tied so tightly behind the chair that they were a full shade lighter than his body tone. They were also cut and bleeding-clearly in an attempt to escape. He had bruises upon his neck, though they looked more like hickey marks than anything else. Though the man was very much dead. It appeared that he choked to death on a balled up cloth gag.

Despite that, the scent of burnt flesh wafted from the apparent basement of the home.

Mathieu scoffed at the scene, chiding himself silently for failing to be a step ahead of the vampire despite his utmost focus. The culprit was nowhere to be seen. However, he noticed an acrid scent in the air, and when he followed this smell it lead him away from the dead man, over to the basement door. He cringed. An unbidden thought of a memory long past crossed his mind. Still, like that very time, he descended the basement stairs, intent on finding the person he came here for.

The basement was rather dreary, yet at the same time, erie. The corpse of a young man lay upon the floor, stabbed several times. The body of a naked female was chained to a wall, a black sack over her head. Blood was smeared upon her body, though it was difficult to see the type of wounds she had in the darkness.

Sitting in a chair near the corner was a body-clearly the source of the stench. The body was burnt to a crisp, and nearly impossible to characterize due to the damage. The body sported the black robe of a Black Hand member, and upon their one finger rest a golden wedding ring. A satchel lay on the floor, as well as a piece of parchment, perhaps a suicide note.

Mathieu grimaced as the scent of burnt flesh became ever sharper, but still he kept calm even as a glimpsed upon the three bodies. Then he noticed the black robes. The vampire? As he headed toward the burnt body he soon recognized it - and his heart raced. The Black Hand robes. Even in its nigh charred state he knew it well. The body was too burnt for him to discern the figure, whether it was a vampire or not, so he kept tense as he picked up the piece of parchment he saw beside the body. Mathieu unfurled it and read.

On the note was a simple sentence. It merely read thus; "No words exist to describe what I once was."

As the Breton read, a brief clicking noise that signaled the unlocking of one the chains around the naked victims's wrists clicked. Despite the unlocking of the chains, the now freed arm moved not. It was actually quite unclear how the chain seemed to unlock itself.

Mathieu's head snapped to the direction of the click, but he saw no movement beside the naked woman's limp arm drop. No one in the shadows of the basement. Only him. Keeping aware of every possible sight and sound Mathieu decided to fumbled through the satchel the note had rested on.

Whilst fumbling through the bag, Mathieu would find a bunch of random things: a simple cloth shirt, leather laced pants, a few bottles of alcohol, a few phials of blood, needle and thread, an ink well and quill, paper, and random flowers-which were generally bent or broken.

Though the most interesting thing of note was that an aged book was present. Actually, it looked exactly to be the man's old diary. If two hundred some years old. It was kept in good condition, even if the pages had turned yellow with age.

Mathieu had fully realized it until he shifted his attention from his surroundings. The faded green cover, indented with diamond-shaped designs. He flipped it open and there it was - in red letters. "It's all right, mother. It's almost over..."

It was his diary. Written two centuries ago.

Mathieu was stunned silent. Paralyzed, nearly. "Why would anyone?..." The breton began to take in the other items he'd lain around himself. Clothes, writing equipment, overall far less astonishing things. Except the phials of blood. So, this must've been the vampire he was ordered to hunt down, there was no other evidence, but...

"No. No, it can't possibly be... It could be anyone..." A heavy sigh racked his lungs. Mathieu shook his head vigorously, clearing the mere suggestion away, trying to calm himself in case there was anyone else - anyone else ALIVE - with him in this house.

...

... What? Damn this bag! Shealyne couldn't entirely see what was happening, save for the fact that she could see the man's heartbeat, but little else. What was he muttering about?

Fuck. Shealyne thought she was supposed to be ambushing a woman, not a man! Sithis damn it all!

But...that voice...it sounded like? No. No, no. It was just her head playing tricks on her. It was just a man who sounded like him. Or herself thinking he did.

Still...

The woman moved slowly, ever so slowly, to push the bag up so she could see what was going on with her sole eye-an action that she knew was very possible in blowing her play-dead cover.

While she only saw a brief glimpse at the man, it was enough to spread cold fear in her dead chest, and she swiftly put the bag back over her head, as if to hide. Fuck!

Mathieu was thankful all those sleepless nights had trained him to listen to every slight sound, no matter how minor. He hadn't been paying attention until he heard the faintest shuffling. He glanced up. It came from the naked woman again. Suspicious, he stood up (though his legs felt a bit shaky from his sudden shock spell) and headed over to the woman to inspect it further.

While the female could not see through the bag, she could at least see his lifeforce coming closer to her. Her body went tense. Damn! He saw! Or heard! Whichever one it was. But was that truly...?

No. No, no. That was impossible. While drawing breath was not necessary due to vampirism, Shealyne found the lack of breathing strange, as well as scary. And in the rising stress of the situation, the female drew breath-ever so slightly.

Mathieu narrowed his eyes. Instinctively raising his war axe over his head, ready, he clutched the bag covering the naked womans head and threw it over his shoulder - stopping dead at the face underneath. He just, stared. At the face, the woman he was all too familiar with.

Shealyne stared with her sole eye, which was white and wide from fear and shock. A hand, rather than going to attack, instantly went to cover her damaged eye socket, which was heavily scarred and marred, the eye gone, having been stabbed out. The wound was then burned in a desperate form to cauterize it, which one could easily tell by the scars.

This wasn't supposed to happen! She was supposed to be the hunter! But instead, the impossible...it seemed to be...possible? How? Why? Now because of that, she was like a scared pathedic kitten! And her first damn reaction was to hide her scar. Why? Because she was worried that he wouldn't see her as pretty anymore? Pfff! He had a damn axe!

But, still...he had paused. He was staring at her, just as she was staring at him.

Shealyne wanted to say something, but found that her tongue forgot to form words, a ball forming in her throat. So she stared, breath becoming ragged and frantic as her chest began to heave.

Were she mortal, her cheeks would be flushed a red hue of embarrassment-or perhaps turn pale from fear, and her heart would be pounding. Her lower lip quivered ever so slightly, creasing into a frown, as if in an effort to prevent herself from beginning to cry.

Mathieu didn't know what to do. How to react, besides just stand and gawk. For so long he drilled in his mind that he'd never see this woman again. That she had traveled somewhere far away, someplace he'd never venture, or that she had been killed. Yet here she was. What's more, is that she was the one he'd been ordered to kill. The fiend he had to slaughter in service to the Dawnguard.

When they had both been silent for too long, Mathieu mustered the voice to say, "...Shealyne?... It's been too long. Two centuries... And yet I still haven't forgotten." He lowered his axe, though not fully.

The woman simply frowned at that, brow creasing in worry and confussion. When she attempted to speak, at first, she failed. Though upon the second time, she found her voice, though it was shaken and broken, as if spoken in disbelief and heartbreak, "...M...Mathieu? M-mmm...b...but...how? W-why?"

She didn't understand. He wasn't a vampire. He wasn't a ghost. How? Oh, but it was so good to hear his voice again! And he hasn't forgotten? Oh! He hasn't forgotten! He hasn't! Never mind the axe he had!

Shealyne was confused. She was sad, but she was happy. And confused, and scared, and worried, "I...I am glad you have not forgotten...it...it touches my heart, even pains it, even if it does not beat..."

Mathieu was able to manage a small smile with some difficulty. "You could have had me, fooled, really. That corpse... Your, possessions..." He backed up. Only a step. He looked her over, then narrowed his eyes, "What are you doing up there - waiting?... For your, next victim perhaps?" The last words sounded far more caustic then he intended, but he still awaited an answer. He needed to know. With so much time passed, how could he be sure about things?

His last words appeared to strike a nerve within the woman. Or, rather, she just instinctively shot back in response, venom laced within her words, "Do not speak to me as if you are better."

Though as soon as she said that, the Sauveterre exhaled deeply, tone becoming one of a fatigued note, if docile, "I did not mean that. I am winded. My trap worked, alas, I...did not expect you." The Breton pierced her thin lips together, head shaking, "Never you."

"I am being hunted by the Dark Brotherhood. I found that this den was housing its members, and they were slaughtering their cattle, and carving messages within the inner flesh. Someone else would come, slay a cow, and carve a message within the new one. The last one I found stated that a woman would come here. Alas, only you came, and my trap is ruined." The woman ended her thought, though pointed to the burnt corpse, "Can you get my robes, please? And the ring-but do not wear it."

The woman wasn't sure if her Brother believed her. She could be quite the liar. But she had no reason to stay here anymore, and she no longer wished to be naked around Mathieu. He might not like her anymore...

She would have to bathe as well. She had cut herself several times to mimic death. Despite the wounds, she cared more about the cleanliness of her shirt and pants. Her robe can be as dirty as she desired-however ruined-until she cleaned it.

Mathieu nodded silently, and went to retrieve her robes and ring. When he did he returned to her, and held them out as he waited for her to undo her bindings. "Ah. Well, I apologize for my, intrusion. You should know I wouldn't have done so had I been aware..." He was about to admit, tell her why he was truly here, but he thought better of it, pursed his lips. Who would take kindly to knowing you were sent here to kill them?

"The brotherhood still hunts you, then? Not much has changed since we last... Saw each other, hm?" Of course things have changed. He didn't know how he kept himself so casual about it.

"It is fine..." Shealyne spoke as she undid her bindings. Upon being handed her items, she took them, "Thank you, lo-er, Mathieu."

Hmmm. The Breton guessed old habbits died hard as she put on her robes and put the ring in a pocket. The woman then went to her satchel, and began putting the objects inside, "You speak as if...as if it were only yesterday. But I do not understand. How are you alive, here? Do you even know?"

Oh! She had much to tell Mathieu! If he actually wanted to speak with her. And if her lack of an eye didn't send him running for the hills. But he smiled! He smiled at her! Shealyne would take that as a good sign! Yay!

He faltered. A troubled expression on his face, he stared off as he mulled over it. "I'm... I'm afraid I don't know why. I've tried but I cannot find an answer. It's like I was never, dead. Simply, alive. After so long in the... The..." His voice lowered, sounding as if a hiss from a snake, "So long in that wretched BLACK."

The woman's brow furrowed as she finished collecting the items. Uh, oh. She hoped he wouldn't end up getting unhindged as she turned to face the male, "Are you well? It is fine. You do not have to dwell upon it." She would simply leave it be if it disturbed him.

"It's nothing. Truly. I'd expect you to be bemused... It must be more than strange for you I'm sure, to see me like this, as if I never died?" Mathieu said. It seemed like he had composed himself again. The man noticed Shealyne was finished putting her items back, and figured she'd want to be leaving soon. Go ahead, he thought. He didn't have other plans for tonight, anyway. And they had much, much more to discuss.

"It is strange. But it is also a shame you did not come back sooner." The woman spoke, putting on her boots that were in a corner, and focusing on getting her weapon-which was Dawnfang. Shealyne then recovered a dagger, safe in its scabbard.

The Sauveterre simply held the enchanted dagger towards Mathieu, "Here. I kept your blade. It is in good shape."

The woman then pierced her lips together slightly, "I do not know where I will go, after tonight. But I will not stay here." She would probably just bathe right after leaving this farm. And probably wedge her bony ass in a hollowed out tree and sleep in it.

Mathieu accepted the blade, though quite astonished. First she keeps his diary, and then his old blade? Had she truly made a point to keep pieces of his memory even now? "I, thank you, Shealyne. Though I'm surprised you've been keeping this with you. And my diary... It's quite touching."

He took some time to unsheathe the blade, grazing his finger across the edge, feeling the slight chill that ran through him from the frost effect still strong on it. Then he strapped it to his left side, right above the war axe.

"... If you wish, you could come with me. I don't have a planned destination yet but I, wouldn't mind the company."

The female Breton watched Mathieu inspect the weapon, and was quite please he accepted it, "You are welcome." Shealyne smiled slightly. Though she assumed keeping a dagger and an old diary were nothing compared to popping out a child. But the Sauveterre had no need to inform him now and risk over informing the man and making him go into shock or something. Her poor Brother.

"I...I believe I would fancy that, if you were to allow." Shealyne had a lot to tell him. But she didn't want to tell him things all at once. She was glad Mathieu wanted to spend time with her. Or at least speak with her. Yay! And it meant she could finally talk someone's ear off! Double yay!

"Thank you for the offer. I believe I will accept." The Sauveterre resumed to lightly smile before turning to the few but steep steps that led to the outside, double hindged doors of the basement guarding the way out. Shealyne just pushed them open, and realized there was no railings to grab onto. Who made steep steps but didn't bother to put in railings? Someone might fall!

Mathieu followed Shealyne through the bulkhead door closely - perhaps too closely for her comfort... Pah! Old habits, he supposed. It was still peculiar, this situation; at first he believed her well and gone and held to the resolve that near the time he died was the last he'd ever see of her, then that belief seemed to prove true in her little trick with the burnt corpse (which he should've took note of the the robes being untouched by fire, now that he thought of it.) But no. She was with him and they were about to travel together, just like before... But that wasn't wise. He couldn't act with her as if it once was. She's been able to LIVE for the past two centuries, unlike him - and she must have moved on long ago despite what she's been keeping.

So... Don't act like her lover anymore. Simple.

Perhaps fresh air could clear his mind. Ah, but was still so good to see her again! So good to have something from his past life reappear. And damn the Dawnguard, just for now, he wanted to relish in it for awhile. And the Brotherhood. Oh yes, the Brotherhood... At last, there was someone who just might share with him the answers he needed!

As Shealyne made her way up the steps, she briefly looked back-for she could practically feel someone in her personal space bubble. Oh, Sithis, talk about a lack of pesonal space-or at least to her liking. The woman figured if she just suddenly stopped, Mathieu might just very well bump into her.

This was confusing to Shealyne as she moved up the last step and walked out into the chill tundra night. Shealyne knew she shouldn't jump to conclusions-or rash impulses and act as if Mathieu was her lover once again-for she was sure he moved on, though she did not know how long he was alive. That, and it would be rude. But the brief moment that he was following her so closely seemed to hold a shadow of their former intimacy.

Shealyne guessed old habits died hard for him, too. Oh, but it was nice to be near him again! And hear his voice! She would need to learn what he has been doing. It would be fun, no?

The outdoors felt very much welcome. When the two stepped out, it was land stretching for miles out of their sight beyond the fence of the farmstead, cool breeze rolling over the hills. Mathieu's long hair whipped in his face at the frequent gusts of wind. Damn. Maybe he should've tied it back this time. He never bothered to care for it anymore, it seemed.

"Do you have anything, immediate, to tend to? I'm sure we'll have much time to speak what we want to."

Shealyne rubbed her eye, yawning a bit. Ugh. Damn, "Yes. My hygiene needs immediate tending to. Is there a place we can meet?"

"Just somewhere a few paces away from the White River, maybe? I presume that's where you're heading."

"The White River is the one flowing along Whiterun?" Shealyne questioned. Well, that was a dumb question. She was pretty sure it was the only river near Whiterun. But then again, it ran three ways. Kind of. She didn't bother to learn the names of these places, unless it was a capital.

Mathieu smiled at her, somewhat amused. "Yes, that's the one. I will wait not too far from you."

The woman nodded, smiling slightly, "Very well. I shan't be long." With that, the Breton made her way in the direction of the river. At least, the river she assumed was the correct one. It was a damn big river.

Then a thought occured to her. Awe! How sweet! He was going to wait nearby! Mortals and their emotional softness! Not that Shealyne was a brick wall of iron feelings. Though she had been called a brick wall with tits before. That was new. Huh...she wondered what that meant?

Mathieu let Shealyne stray from his sight before he too started towards the river, stopping by the road that ran with the rivers length sitting down near a large, sharp rock. He unrolled a map from his satchel. Where to go? He'd have to halt Dawnguard business for awhile if Shealyne planned to stay for a few days, so a trip to the Rift felt a bit pointless. There was investigating some Nordic Ruins near here or Falkreath. Or... He could pay a visit to the Reach. It's been a few weeks since he sent Eola off on her way.

Shealyne normally would have taken her time to bathe, though this time, she did not. While she was swift, she was firm with her cleaning, washing away the blood and grime. She was excited! It was a strange feeling. But she knew that they would most likely part ways. She was sure Mathieu was a busy man. He was always ambitious.

The woman was so lost in thought that she failed to notice a shrouded stalker, bow poised to launch an arrow. Shealyne became aware, however, when she heard the bow string snap. It was a shame she could not react faster than an arrow, for in a shocked hitch of breath, the projectile found itself in her stomach.

If the shooter was aiming to kill her-or had the knowledge of her vampirism-was unknown. While normally a fatal wound to mortals, it was not so for she. Yet that did not mean that it hurt any less, or that she could physically shrug the wound off.

Rather, the inertia from the arrow caused her to stumble backwards, and slip into the water.

There was an abrupt splash among the low sound of the rippling water. Mathieu snapped his head toward the river then - he bolted up from his spot and rushed to the river back. It was not far. And soon he spotted Shealyne, fallen in the water, arrow lodged in her stomach. The sight prompted anger. Much, swift anger; it caused him to turn on his heel, catching a blur of movement in the direction Shealyne was shot and out of the corner of his eye. On impulse he chased after it.

Uh-oh. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Upon realizing the prowler was being chased, they promptly turned on their heels and ran. They didn't expect to be chased! This was bullshit!

Shealyne, on the other hand, managed to keep herself on the rocky river side, laying upon her back, blood trickling from her wound that stained the river red. Ow. It hurt. Shakenly-for she was still in shock-the woman reached for the shaft of the arrow. Ow! Touching it seemed to make it worse! Though the Breton figured that was in her head. She knew what needed to be done. It was just a matter of will powering through it.

A tear involuntarily ran down her face-though it was impossible to see with her face being wet. Gripping the shaft firmly, the Sauveterre held her breath, and in one swift movement, ripped the metal and wood from her stomach.

It hurt more gong out that going in. A bit like pregnancy-which crossed her mind-of all things. She would have cried out, had the pain not stolen the breath from her lungs.

Good. Good. It was out. The woman's body went lax as she threw the offending arrow away. Now she just had to tend to the wound...

Mathieu was able to catch up on the prowler in what seemed to be their startlement, and as they fled the breton's long legs carried him nearer and nearer. He reached out, lurched forward on the figure, even if just a small overestimate sent him hurtling to the ground and the one he pursued, free.

The bowmen released a high pitched, girlish scream as they ended up tripping over the uneaven terrain and face planting in their haste to get away. Which was quite a feat, since the prowler was male.

Mathieu crashed into the prowlers backside just as the figure tripped. Momentarily stunned from the action. Then he crawled on top of the other man, and roughly spun him over on his back. This caused the prowler's hood to fall. "Speak, snake!" Mathieu snarled. Try as he may to counter, Mathieu had the mans limbs pinned down.

The man flailed-or tried to-and squirmed. He spat upon the Breton's face, "Why do you waver in your kill, hunter?" The man asked, tone harsh despite his obvious fear.

"Imagine-Isran finding out-what will you do, then?" The man then smiled slightly, "I am only helping you do your job."

Mathieu faltered. He looked at the fellow hunter with disbelief - dammit, Isran had told him this job was for him alone! Did he not have confidence in him yet? His mind was fixed on binding and interrogating a Dark Sibling, foremost.

After a moment, he sneered. Mathieu lowered himself so that his lips pressed the hunter's ear and replied in a hushed tone, "Let Isran find out - let him know that I will not kill the vampire yet, because I am USING her. I suspect that, from what I've found, that she is far older and holds far more information than we first realized. She does not know I hunt her, and she has even taken to trusting me. I plan to use this to our advantage, fellow hunter."

The man snorted slightly, "Very well...and what do you hope to gain?" Well, at least he was safe from getting killed. Hmmm. Wait. Ops. Guess he shouldn't have put poison on that arrow. Oh, well. The man would probably find out whenever he went back to the filthy leech.

"Locations. Connections. Anything that may give us insight to where more of the beasts reside. It may take time, but I will try to coax this information out one way, or another. And if that is for naught? She is dead. And nothing will be lost besides a little time."

"Fine, fine...can you let me go? You're creeping me out." The man whined, wanting to be let go.

Mathieu got off of the man. "Go. Quickly. And tell Isran he need not worry of insubordination from me." The breton then turned back where he came, wanting to return to Shealyne quickly. He did not know if she was still lying there or if she tried to mend her wounds herself.

The man quickly got up and skulked off, not wanting to almost be killed again. Or at least chased.

Shealyne would be laying in the same spot she pulled the arrow at. Though she certainly didn't look good. Her body was spasming and seizing, muscles locking and unlocking. She seemed to be more like a bloated tick popping, since blood was rupturing from her mouth and nose. Her eye was hemoraging as well, the visual organ having rolled to the back of her head. It was a bit difficult to tell if blood was seeping from her ears as well, but there was certainly quite the bit of blood.

Her hands clenched and unclenched, limbs spasming in sporatic movements, as if one were having a seizure.

"-Fuck!"

It seemed barely a second before Mathieu was at Shealyne's side. This must be poison. That bastard must have poisoned his shot. And, seeing the woman in this horrid state, he started to wish he had beat that man. Just a little. He fished through his satchel. Keys, provisions, his new diary... With trembling fingers he finally dug out a few small vials. He'd written certain symbols to them to denote their purposes; a poison, tonic for diseases, two for healing. He swore he had one to quell poison, though?

He'd have to make do. Mathieu opened the healing vial, grasped the back of Shealyne's head, tilted it, and attempted to pour the liquid into her mouth. He cursed himself for his peculiar lack of magicka. It would ease this situation far more effectively.

While her choking and gagging made it difficult to administer the potion-much less keep it down-the contents that did make it aleviated the the symptoms. Her body slowly began to cease its spasming and relax, until she simply went still and quiet, head lolling off to the side, eye closing.

Her comatose state was short lived, for her eye fluttered open, blood turning the rim of her eye red. Actually, her eye was bloodshot. Shealyne simply stared at Mathieu, too tired to do anything else. She wasn't sure what happened, but her whole body felt like it was on fire. She went to say something, but only bubbled out blood and a soft groan. Her hand then reached up, shaking and jerky, towards Mathieu. While it was unsure if she was actually reaching for him, since it could have simply been her lack of coordination in her recovery.

Mathieu didn't think the potion would entirely rid the spasms, more so just lessen it, but he was thankful when her body went still. Though, she looked bad. As her hand reached for him he took it in his. Carefully draped her arm around his neck as he held her closer. Not too close. Mathieu wiped the blood from her mouth, beginning to check her over and procure some materials that may help heal the arrow wound in her stomach.

"Don't speak. Rest." He demanded.

Shealyne wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but she was quite glad Mathieu took her hand. It made the situation less scary, since she wasn't sure what happened to herself. Her arm that was draped around his neck hung abit limply, though her fingers curled upon him, as if to gain support.

Despite the suggestion, the Breton did not want to sleep. But fighting sleep in her current state was nigh impossible, she herself drifting off to sleep, only to wake herself several times.

"S...sorry..." Shealyne whispered softly. And that was all that she managed to say before she ended up falling into a deep sleep, her grip becoming lax upon him.

Mathieu sighed softly. With Shealyne asleep the man rested her back on the ground and went to careful work. He checked to see if more blood pooled from her mouth, making sure she wouldn't possibly choke on it. After applying a bit of his disease tonic to the arrow wound as best as he could, he slowly rolled linen wrap around her stomach. It may not have completely helped. He was sure there was still poison in her system - the health potion would only settle some of its effects.

Once that was done, Mathieu retrieved her belongings near the bank. He didn't bother trying to dress her. Instead he covered Shealyne in her robes to act like a makeshift blanket as he picked her up... Now where? Mathieu noted some cramped spot right at the river's edge, where land and rock and inclined outward to make a natural cover. So he went there. He sat down, Shealyne still cradled in his arms, and watched the water rush and nip at his boots. Just another sleepless night.

Shealyne would remain in a deep torpor until morning. The woman roused herself from her slumber, red iris greeting the new day behind newly opened lids. The woman groaned slightly, confused at where she was. At least she felt a lot better compared to last night. Wait...was she being held? She felt like an infant wrapped in her robes!

"Awake at last?" Mathieu greeted her passively. One of his arms was wrapped around Shealyne's back, supporting her slightly, while his other was rooting through his satchel he had laid next beside him on the ground. "I do hope you, slept, well."

"Sssorry." The woman murmured. She imagined her poor Brother killed his arm supporting her dead weight. A bit literally. Ugh. She was starving.

"I hhhope you slept. Your arm mmmust be tired." Huh? Was...was she slurring? She wasn't hung over, was she? Fuck. She hoped it went away, or was just her imagination.

The Breton moved to sit up right to give Mathieu's arm a break. Ow. She shouldn't have done that. It hurt her stomach. But she could power through it. She didn't want Mathieu supporting her constantly. She wasn't weak. Just partially danger prone, apparently. Or at least around Mathieu, which irritated her. Hmmph.

Mathieu furrowed a brow. That slurring was certainly the poison taking effect. With his misplacement of his spare poison cure, they'd have to go to Whiterun and to the alchemist's. Or the temple healers, depending on the concentration of poison.

"It's... Nothing, Shealyne." He said.

In his bag there was few food for them to eat. A loaf of stale bread and a rather large wrapped package of salted meat, mainly... And it was best to leave the meat be, anyway... Wait, did she know? Had he confessed that one time - no, he couldn't remember, so he assumed he hadn't. He handed the bread to Shealyne along with a waterskin. "It'd be best to eat first... It's not much, but I was planning to stop by Whiterun, today..."

The woman frowned slightly. She figured the male was lying about it being nothing. Still, the woman pushed the offered bread and waterskin away, "Nnnno. Keep it. For yourselfff. I lllive on blood and...and alcohol. I vommmit up anny normal food."

It was a shame. She bought a sweetroll once because it just looked and smelled so good. But when she ate it, she instantly vomited. It was a tragedy.

"I just...need...then...I will be better..." The Breton muttered, attempting to get up, or at least get to her satchel. It was more like a toddler bumbling through their first steps, though managed to open her satchel, and upon fumbling through it, and pulling out two blood phials. Popping the cork off one, she proceeded to feed, her other hand searching a bit blindly for her clothes, eventually finding them.

Mathieu looked on at Shealyne worriedly, but eventually decided to have his fill of bread and water before putting them back. "You were attacked last night, shot by an arrow... Perhaps you remember that." He explained, "I was going to come aid you sooner but, I found the culprit and gave chase... He's dead now." The breton frowned. "You're poisoned, Shealyne. When I returned you were having, spasms, and there was... There was quite a bit of blood. I tended to you the best I could but I could not fully rid the poison. That's why we're going to Whiterun. We need a tonic for it, or even a healer."

The woman would have responded, but her lips were currently pressed to her blood phial. With a soft 'pop', Shealyne slipped her lips off of the glass rim, "Nno. I am fine. Will be fine."

"I cccan go into town. Get you things. Provisssions, yes? You can rest, then, no?" The Breton questioned, shifting to face away from Mathieu as she removed her robes, pooling them around her hips. Her naked back was to him as she put on her shirt.

"Tsk - I doubt that. You're slurring." Mathieu stared on at Shealyne for quite some time... But he shook his head. "But if you so wish to do that for me, I won't decline."

"Furf!" The woman exclaimed in response, her shirt now safely on. She focused on positioning her robes into a mound to block the man's view of her butt as she worked on getting on her pants. For some reason she felt embarrassed to be naked around him. The first time, not so much, because she was in too much shock to find out Mathieu was, well, alive. And with the arrow she did not know up from down. So...she did not entirely count that. Still...she did not know why. She just was. But she doubted he was interested.

"Of coursh. If I still know yyou, it ish that you can neglect yourshelf. And I do not want that. For you to neglect yourshelf. Then I cannot spend time with you. Real time. Real talking." Shealyne frowned slightly as she got her pants on. They have just been in good situations to talk ever since they met again.

"... I suppose you're right. It's been most, inopportune to spend quality time, hm?"

Mathieu stood up, though he stumbled first as his numb arm buckled beneath him. His nerves must've fallen asleep. At least there was no ache - yet. He gathered his things and stepped out of this little alcove. "Whenever you're ready, then."

"I am. Ready, thhat is." The Breton spoke, putting her items in the satchel and grabbing her robe before stuffing it in her bag. Hmmmm. On second thought...maybe she should wear her robes? Her shirt did a piss poor job at hiding the curvature of her breasts-much less the natural jiggily motion as she walked or actually ran. Never mind the tenderness of her nipples when she got cold.

Eh. She kind of cared. But then she didn't. She was too old to wear a bra-or, rather-was too old to care properly. If men looked, that was their own problem. She couldn't control her breasts.

...wait. Was that what a man meant when he called her a brick wall with tits?

The Sauveterre snapped herself out of her trivial thoughts, and simply followed Mathieu out of the little alcove. Her robes could remain stuffed away. She figured they could unnerve people if worn.

Whiterun wasn't a far walk from where they were. Merely past the Honningbrew Meadery, and another, more thriving farmstead from the one they had been to, and they'd be taking a right up the path to the grand wooden gates, into the city. Mathieu was silent with Shealyne the way there - mostly because he wasn't sure if the poison was putting her in the most right state of mind for talking.

Shealyne remained silent as well. Mainly because she figured Mathieu simply did not want to talk. She did, however, speak to ask a question, "Hhhow is your armm?"

"Fine, now. It was numb when I first moved it again."

"Hmmm. Mmasshaging it could help. It helps eases the nerves. And shtuff." The Sauveterre spoke. She was currently fighting a yawn. And thus exposing her fangs.

...Well, now that he actually paid it any mind Mathieu did feel the pain creeping up his arm, causing him to flinch - yet he simply shrugged it off. "Yes, of course. I'll tend to it when we're done." Hm. He must have seemed quite irritable with Shealyne right now. Maybe he does need some sleep...

As they walked through the streets to the market district, some of the locals passing the two said quick greetings, though they seemed to favor Mathieu by saying "friend," or even mumbling something like "thanks, again..." A few children started to tail the man, tugged on his robe, asked him things excitedly, but Mathieu shooed them off with a dismissive wave. Because of this, he asked Shealyne, "Do you come here often?"

Shealyne grunted slightly, falling silent. Damn, and people called her a bitch. She figured Mathieu was already annoyed with her. Either that, or it was the lack of sleep. Mortals needed their sleep, after all. Shealyne went through more events in one night than most people experienced in a day's time of events, and she wasn't griping and sulking about sounding like she was a fat cow with a sweetroll stuffed in its mouth. Oh, well.

Shealyne did find it odd-and even slightly vexing-that these random children were poking and prodding near her. Even if their target was her companion. Hmmmm. Mathieu must have been here quite a while to form a rapport with these children. If those children did the same to her, she would probably slap their heads into the next hold. Uggghh. The horror of children...she could barely stand her own. Even now, as adults. Adults that still acted like children.

Her thoughts, however, were broken as she heard Mathieu speak, "Oh, no. I travvvel a losh. I probably will go to Shyrodiil, soon. Very soon. I ashume you do? Come here a lot? The cccchildren like you."

"Why, yes... It seems I've made quite the name for myself here... Especially here. Word spreads quick. Had come here more often, you may have heard about me sooner. Even the children know what I've done." Mathieu said. He flashed his companion a smile, possibly to ease the tension between them, then resumed to the marketplace.

... Cyrodiil, though. He still held a desire to go back to that province, see how things have changed. With these recent wars the Empire was in things doubtlessly have. Mainly, though, it was because of the Brotherhood. He once kept tabs and notes of some, if not most, of the locations of the sanctuaries there through months of patient tracking and waiting. He wondered if it was worth it. To see if they still thrived.

"Hmmph. I abhor Skyrim." The woman grunted slightly. She did not bother to return the smile. Partly because she did not feel like smiling, and partly to not expose her fangs.

"And what ish it thhhat you have done?" The Sauveterre questioned. Her Brother probably accomplished more than her in the time he came back than in the two hundred years she dilly dallied around.

"It wasn't welcoming to me, either. At first. But I came here, did a few favors for the citizens, the Jarl's court, even... And then I had slain a dragon. Before it could ravage this city." Mathieu explained. He hadn't bore further details on those events to her. And he didn't want to yet. It was still truth that he had delivered the finishing blow to that dragon, whether or not he had absorbed its soul and unlocked powers of the blood he never knew he had.

"I just do not like it. I have a home in Cyrodiil. Or hhad. Trolls destroyed it. Alas, I amm not a carpenter, and had no coin. I could not stay." The Sauveterre replied. Hey! Her speech was getting better! Yay!

"Though I have fffaught several dragons before. They are giant push ovvvers. I faught...onnne near Dragon's Bridge...one sommewhere else with Nol...and...oh, the three that attacked Riften. The one near Dragon's Bridge, I killed. I was with my daughter in law. She was a coward. She summoned a Daedra and ran away. And the othher, I let Nol kill. And I only actually faught one out of three dragons. A bunch of other people were fighting the two that were innn the city. I was fighting outside the city. My daughter in law killed that one." Shealyne nodded, as if to confirm.

Though the last one was scary. Shealyne was too busy trying to keep Aiden alive and not chocking to death on his own blood. Thank Sithis Ruccia grew a pair of tits. It only took the novice mage seeing her husband dying to do that...

"But, thhey are not so hard. At least when you have magic. Fighting them is a lot harder wiiith a blade, unless you can get on their back and stab out their eyes. Or sllash their tendons." But both of that was dangerous. Still, riding a dragon like an angry stallion was fun.

Mathieu scoffed. Of course, make his actions seem like child's play compared to her. He wasn't sure if what she spoke was before or after his encounter; from their reaction the Whiterun guard acted as if dragons didn't exist before now. Though, he believed he had heard of a few dragon slayings not done by his own hand. The time of those attacks, though, were not discerned. Mathieu was curious of this Nol figure she spoke of. But that wasn't the matter here. The breton snapped his head at Shealyne,

"I didn't have magic on my side then. Only a simple bow and sword and shield. And perhaps it wasn't the slaying itself that made this city favor me, but the fact that I had consumed that dragon's very soul before men's eyes and dissipated that beast into a mere skeleton! A feat only the Nordic legend of the Dragonborn can achieve!"

And he only realized his mistake after the fact. Shit. He just snapped at Shealyne, for nothing more than a small quip she made?

Shealyne didn't respond, at least right away. Rather, she frowned, "I apologize." She didn't mean to upset or offend him. She was just trying to talk. But instead she said something wrong on accident and he got mad. She thought talking to Mathieu would be nice, but all she did was get snapped at. It was probably her fault, anyway. Her social graces were not up to par, given to her living alone in Cyrodiil for so long. She still wasn't good at the jokes everyone seemed to tell. And forget flirting. She probably wouldn't notice it even if a dragon landed on her little shack of a home.

Though...what was that of a Dragonborn? Was Mathieu a Septim? A long, long, long lost Septim? They were Dragonborn. So it made sense to her. She wasn't sure what he was babbling about dragons and flesh, but that was okay. Whatever he was getting at, it was okay with her.

Mathieu backed away. As quickly as his expression changed from tired to irate, it had softened, and he said nothing for a long while. By the Nine why did he do that? Why? She had merely said she had killed dragons before, killed them quite easily in fact. Was it really the sense of wounded pride?... How petty. He had acted like some child getting beaten in a game he thought he couldn't lose at... And still, he felt rage. His hands were nearly shaking with anger... Bah. Tiredness didn't help his pointless temper, either.

Mathieu sighed. His eyes downcast. "Don't. I, apologize. It was... Unreasonable of me. You said nothing, it was just that I - hfff... I'm going to the alchemists'. I'll be dwelling near there. But go wherever you wish." With that, he went off into the crowded market square, disappearing into Arcadia's Cauldron.

"It is ffine, Mathieu." Shealyne spoke, though she did not know if the man heard her or not as he walked off. Hmmph. His temper did not change. But that was okay. That was what made Mathieu, well, Mathieu. And the Sauveterre was fine with that. She just hoped their conversations stopped being so antagonistic. Or at least not fun.

The woman had no intention of wandering anywhere, and simply decided to wait outside of the alchemist's shop for her Brother. The only place she would have had interest going was the pretty dead tree, but then that man would ruin her self contemplation by screaming his lungs out about Talos. That, and she smelled wolves nearby. Whiterun was not entirely safe.

Mathieu took longer than normal at the alchemist's shop. He already bought the potions he needed - two or three poison tonics included, one of which he'd give to Shealyne immediately - and now he was waiting. Pretending to browse, but really just clearing his mind. He had downed a strong fatigue potion when he bought it. Luckily, it made him feel less tired, and thus, tetchy. The breton truly didn't want to act like this further with Shealyne in their time together; finally he had someone who knew him from his past life, whom he could talk to freely and not keep his inner troubles from. Even Eola wasn't aware that he died once.

Once he was finally relaxed, Mathieu exited the shop.

Shealyne was outside, dwelling upon her thoughts. Though occassionally she looked to the sky, searching for that damned watchman. The raven wouldn't be hard to spot-with its mini set of Daedric armor upon it. Shealyne never knew birds could wear armor before. At least, not normal corvids. This raven was not normal. She was worried. Whenever that bird was near, she thought it meant the Listener was never far away. Or, at least, the odd bird was her eyes and ears.

It made her tense, and nervous, whenever she saw that bird. Runa hurt one of her brothers by lacing a weapon with skooma-and it was quite clear she had intended to hurt Aiden in order to hurt their mother. Shealyne didn't want Runa hurting Aiden even further, or Connor, for that matter. Shealyne didn't understand. Was she that bad of a mother that her own daughter would attempt to harm her own brothers in spite of Shealyne, herself?

Shealyne didn't know. She hoped not. But she knew she would have to check on Aiden, soon. She doubted Connor could fully handle a raging skooma addict. And who knows the damage her son would cause to the Restoration Chapter, cursing, screaming, breaking things and...and...just...not being her son.

And her poor mages. They can't even practice of help people because she stashed her addict son in the same building. Sithis only knew what they thought of her.

But all this only pointed to something she dreaded. Killing Runa. Killing her own daughter. Their daughter. She didn't want to. But...it needed to be done, to protect her boys. But then there was Mathieu...

She had a lot to tell him. A lot. And she was sure he would hate her and want nothing to do with her once she was done talking. She could tell him about her twins, and her husband, but, Runa? Runa being a Listener?

No. No. Shealyne thought that would be too much. Too much. Maybe she could tell him they did, indeed, have a daughter, but leave it at that. That would make things easier.

But it was nice, having Mathieu by her side, despite it not being perfect. She forgot all the things that were bad going on when he was with her. He certainly was a good distraction.

The Sauveterre, however, was so lost within her inner thoughts that she failed to realize her Brother exited the alchemy shop.

"Hello, Shealyne." Mathieu spoke after a minute waiting for her notice. "Were you, waiting for me? You didn't have to do that." He adopted a more pleasant tone now, but he wondered what kept her so lost in thought.

Upon hearing her companion, the woman blinked, red iris snapping to Mathieu, as if just seeing him, "Oh, yyes. I had no desire to traverse."

Mathieu nodded. He pulled out a thin red phial from his bag and handed it to her. "I want you to drink this. It is for the poison. Can't be sure how much of it, is still in you."

Oh. Opps. Shealyne forgot to say hello. That was rude of her. Oh, well.

The woman grunted softly, taking the phial as she worked on popping off the cork, "Yyou and your ppoison..." The Breton murmured, though drank the contents of the phial.

"From my knowledge, you haven't been drinking heavily since this morn. You haven't been drinking at all. So why else would your speech be so slow?" Mathieu smirked.

"Define, 'drinking', Dearest Brother." The red head spoke, and proceeded to lightly poke the man's chest with a feminine finger, "But enough of me. What can I do for you, Mr. I-Can-Go-Days-Without-Sleeping Bellamont?" The Sauveterre's tone was an odd mix between a purr and a jesting tone.

Ech. Mathieu inwardly cringed at the title. Brother... They may have called each other siblings when they still, by all rights, were Dark Siblings, maybe even after their treachery, but now it sounded wrong, suddenly... But he didn't let it get in the way. Not this time.

"I mean alcohol, of course." Bellamont's smirked widened, "But oh, I know what you could do for me..."

Well shit. That sounded suggestive. Definitely suggestive. Damn it - Mathieu passed Shealyne and gestured toward one of the food stands - "If you want to get some food for my supplies? I'm low."

"Furf! You and I can share bottles, perhaps. Alcohol, of course." Shealyne spoke, eye focusing on the food stands, "Of course. What do you need?"

The potential sexual suggestion flew right over Shealyne's head.

"Anything that will, fit, really. Bread. Cheese. Meat. It doesn't much matter."

Shealyne nodded, "As you wish. I shall be back." The woman spoke, walking off to the food carts. Though she briefly glanced at the jewelry carts. Oh. Shiny!

Mathieu lingered by the alchemy shop as he watched Shealyne get him the provisions. Ah, did he miss this. He mulled over what she said earlier, about the dragons, and specifically the people she noted. This Nol character, for one. But there was one more, a... Daughter-in-law? Wait. Shealyne has a child? Why did it just dawn on him?... Well, likely because he was more overcome with his temper at that time.

The Sauveterre did not take long, and came back with two of everything. Ah! She was acting like a mother making sure her kid got enough food! Oh, well. She had a satchel, too, "There. Now you will not be low for a while."

"Oh!" Exclaimed Mathieu. He didn't expect this much food. Still, he took it gratefully and stuffed as much as he could in his bag. Shealyne would just have to carry the rest. Ha! When he was done with this he leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the building. "I was, thinking about what you said earlier," He said, "And how you spoke of a daughter-in-law. So... You have a child now?"

Shealyne stuffed the food in her satchel. At least nothing would crush it in there. Mathieu's comment caught her off guard a bit, for she was confused. Then it dawned on her. Oh! She mentioned her slut of a daughter in law!

The woman nodded, "Yes. Three."

...Fuck!

Mathieu tilted his head. "Ah." He smiled. "Well, then... I'm, glad. If it isn't, personal, then, may I ask who fathered them?"

He didn't know if he should be jealous of the man who was able to take her after him... Start a FAMILY with her... And he certainly felt the sting, however dull. Perhaps it was too sudden to really take in. Or that he wasn't surprised at all...

Wait... How in Oblivion can vampires even bear children?... Huh.

...oh, dear. Now Shealyne was at a crossroads. It would be cruel not to tell him.

She should tell him. It was right. But not here, in public.

Fuck her like a duck. She didn't want him to know this soon...

"May we go somewhere private?" The woman questioned, tone soft as her already thin lips pressed together into a thin line.

"...Alright."

Mathieu led Shealyne behind the merchant houses, to a near desolate backstreet. There was one or two smaller houses along this road, as well as the backside of what he knew was a vacant home called Breezehome, but nobody really passed through here unless it was the homeowners returning to the houses near nightfall. The two went near the back of Breezehome.

"...Shealyne, if you don't wish to tell me, I have no qualms about it. If it's too personal to share... If you just, want to keep the father's name a secret from me, for whatever reason. It's probably too soon to ask you anyway."

The woman frowned, though exhaled slightly, "No. It does not matter. I would have told you anyway. Just...not so soon."

"When I was a lowly murderer for the Dark Brotherhood, I was infatuated with the prospect of living a normal life. Away from murder. Away from the illness that was vampirism. I idolized and romanticized that way of life. I fell in love with a simple man, Guilbert Jemane. As much as I loved him, and how much I knew I was being a terrible Dark Sister and endangering not only the Dark Brotherhood-but him-I could not stop seeing him. It hurt too much. So...I tried to balance the fantasy life I had created around him, and the life as a member of the Brotherhood. A double life, I guess some would say." The woman paused slightly, as if in thought.

"That fantasy ended when my twin sons were born. Lucien had me make a choice: cut ties with my newborn sons and husband and remain with the Dark Brotherhood, or, have my family-and possibly myself-slain. I had no choice. Ever since then, I swore I would do anything to be with my family again, and free from the jagged chains of the Dark Brotherhood." Shealyne paused to clear her throat.

"And then, I met you. I never expected to get so close to you-both in friendship and romance. But I understood your plight. I understood what you wanted, because it was very similar to what I wanted, too. But I knew I could use you, and manipulate you, so that I could be free at last. You were obsolete. But, at the same time, you were not. I tried so hard to convince myself I never loved you. I did. I came up with every excuse, no matter how trivial. And I was ashamed, because no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I could never love you-just love my husband-I knew it was not true." Shealyne frowned, voice wavering and lower lip trembling.

"I did. And I was ashamed I loved you. Because it ruined my fantasy. And I am sorry. I am so sorry, Mathieu. I treated you like filth whether you knew it or not, and I risked everything for a man that only gave me his hate instead of his love!"

By now, the Breton was crying. It wasn't fair. And she was an idealistic fool, "I am sorry. I have done you wrong. I was never thinking about you-I was thinking about my husband and sons. I was so blinded by the desire for a normal life that I could not see you. I...I do not blame you if your opinion has changed of me. It is okay if you do not like me. It is okay if you do not want to give me your time anymore. I...I am sorry for not loving you when I should have. I am sorry you died. I am sorry I did not marry you. I am sorry you never got to see your daughter..."

The last sentence was soft. Though Shealyne was busy wiping her eye of tears, she backed away from Mathieu on shaken legs. Her unsteadiness-and her grief-caused her to stumble and lean upon the siding of a house, her breath of one in distress and shoulders heaving.

It wasn't fair. She wasn't fair to him. Mathieu didn't deserve the treatment she gave him-even if it was a long time ago. To him, it was probably like yesterday. Maybe. She wouldn't blame him if he wanted nothing to do with her. But the thing that hurt the most was that he was never able to see Runa grow.

Anger, heartbreak, betrayal, sorrow... A great tangle of emotions seemed to knot his stomach, tie his tongue, strangle the very air out of his lungs. Many impulses screamed at him to move, but he was fixed to the spot. Just like when they met again - but this time it was stronger. He wasn't sure how to feel with her now. One thought was to tear away, fleeing the scene with Shealyne left weeping; another thought was of a more violent reaction, reminding himself of Maria's end... But he did not touch her, run from her. He pressed his back to the house. Lowered himself to the ground, head in his hands.

When he gained the gall the only thing he spoke was "My... My, daughter..." He repeated it a few times. Under his breath, barely audible. "... My... Our daughter. Our CHILD." His voice cracked, then, followed by a soft sob.

Shealyne knew this was a bad idea. Look at how upset he was! But the woman strumbled upon shaken and uneven legs towards the man. Upon getting close enough, Shealyne tightly wrapped her arms around him in a hug-or tried to in her distressed state. Her weight ended up leaning more on Mathieu because of her legs.

She wasn't sure what to do to comfort him, other than hug him. She tried to rub her hand upon him to sooth, and she tried to kiss his hair-his brow-his cheek-anything save for his lips to try and bring him comfort. Though at that state, it may as well have seemed like an insult.

Shealyne's own body was heaving and sputtering from crying, and try as she might to form words and try to comfort him, she couldn't. Rather, a tiny, weak, and barely audible response came from the Breton, "...S-s-she...she m-m-m-mmmmissed you...she n...nev-never knew you...but she mmissed you..."

And Shealyne felt that was her fault.

Mathieu mindlessly pulled Shealyne closer and locked her in an embrace of his own. Despite it all, he still found solace in holding her; just the reassurance of having another person with him... He remembered Mother. How he used to hug her whenever he felt bad, spending what seemed like hours wrapped in her arms, falling asleep sometimes to the soothing sound of her voice...

But he didn't have her comfort with him. Mother was mad at him, he assumed. Despondent.

Shealyne, while being comforted by the man returning her hug, did not faulter the tightness of her own embrace. She pressed herself further against Mathieu, and while her crying had calmed, her body still shook and hitched in breath in grief. While the actions irritated her arrow wound, that pain seemed almost dulled compared to the emotional one. Her heart hurt. Odd, considering it didn't beat.

The man couldn't have possibly imagined it like this, his reunion with Shealyne. They'd already been in... Less favorable situations already; yet after that he just figured they could talk, confide, even hopefully rekindle their relationship with time. It hadn't been a day. Half a day, even. And he was mad now. Ohhh, he certainly was mad at her. She betrayed him! Betrayed his trust, his love, USING his own plans to get back to her SECRET lover!

Eventually he calmed - or at least he feigned it well. Mathieu propped his chin on Shealyne's head, staring out at the street blankly, waiting for her to quiet and stop shaking. She was still a piece of him. His past. Now he knew she was the mother of his child, and that thought seemed to make it better.

Shealyne eventually quieted, and calmed. Only an occassional sniff coming from her as she buried her head deeper into the man's form. She wished it went so different than this. It would have been easier to never tell him, but it wouldn't have been fair. Not at all. She could have lied. She could have. But he didn't deserve a lie. No, she had to try and be good, be right, do the right thing.

But in doing the right thing, the Sauveterre was sure she had ruined their chances of becoming what they once were-perhaps even more. Sorry just wasn't enough. Her hopes had now become her dreams.

Mathieu didn't glance at Shealyne. "...What is, her name?" He said. His tone was unreadable, but the question was innocent enough. "What did you name our, my, daughter?"

He wanted to know more. How his newfound was, what she was doing now. Though he assumed her already dead, as he didn't quite grasp the concept of how a human-vampire halfbreed would possibly develop.

And now Shealyne felt dread, and whole new sense of fear. If she mentioned Runa was alive, he would be hopeful. And then instantly crushed that his child was the Listener. Why were her life choices so morally heart wrenching with no easy answer? Everytime she thought she was doing right, the consequences seemed to say otherwise.

"...Runa. Her name is Runa. I am sorry if you do not like it." The Sauveterre murmured softly after a pause. She once heard the name Runa meant secret. Or lovely secret. Or little secret. Something like that. Shealyne wasn't sure if that was true, but she figured the meaning of the name-fake or no-fit. So, Runa it was.

"Runa..." It was as if he tested the word on his tongue. "That's a... Nice name."

"I hope that is genuine. I am not good with names." Shealyne spoke, "She...she was a lot like you. The good part of you. The nice part."

"Really? Hm. Define those, qualities." In a way, her answer could assure Mathieu that she did really care enough to have known him, however small that may be. Though at times he felt he himself could not be recognized any differently from that wretched, impulsive part of him - the Dark Brotherhood's grasp on him.

Shealyne's lips briefly pressed together into a thin line as she thought of where to start, "Well...she was...very patient. Very...open minded. Accepting. But she was easily hurt, and sensitive. Gentle. Artistic. You...you can be all of those things, too. When you are not too angry. You accepted me despite what I did, and despite what I am, when my husband did not."

The woman paused to think, smiling sullenly, "You are a good man, Mathieu. Deep down. Even a good man can sometimes do bad things. You have a good heart, despite everything. You just are hurt. Wounded."

But of course it didn't excuse some of his actions. Still, she didn't see him as a bad-bad man. But he wasn't good-good, either. He was just somewhere in between.

He didn't know if he could fully believe Shealyne at this point but accepted her words anyway. "And you truly think that? You cared enough, loved enough, "saw" enough of me to glean that?" Mathieu pulled away from her enough to look the vampire in the eye.

Shealyne frowned, "Yes. I know you are mad. You should be. But I saw you being both good and bad. And sometimes the bad scared me. Because I did not know if you would hurt me, or get man enough to. But then I saw why you could be both good, and bad. You wanted to be good, and do good, but you had to let a part of yourself be bad to do it. Like me, a bit. But then I saw why you did those things. And you were hurt, like me, a bit. You wanted a good life, but it was ruined and blinded by rage. I wanted a fantasy life I could never have."

The woman's frown deepened, "I tricked myself into believing I could have that life. You tricked yourself into believing that anger and rage was the only thing you you could do. That you could not go back to a normal life, a good life. But you could have, Mathieu...you could have. If you just let the hate go...you could have been happier."

Bah, what was she saying? What was she getting at? She was trying to make a point, but ended up blubbering away instead. Though she didn't blame him for simply not believing her. It was a painful gut punch, one that she felt with her husband's rejection. Then she was left wondering if he ever loved her at all-or worse, regretted their children because she was bad.

"What exactly do you imply?!"

In one swift motion Mathieu had forced Shealyne down on the ground, pinning her under his weight; there was derangement in his eyes as they bore straight into her. "That my efforts were pointless?! That the path I follow could have turned so easily?! That I'd be content with letting my mother be slaughtered before me with no hope of justice for her?! If so, then what am I now besides a fool trying to live his old lies?! Destined not to ever live in content and peace..." Then he frowned. His brows knitted together, he sighed, collapsed onto Shealyne, hid his face in the crook of her neck.

"... I, do wish you'd have told me sooner. About this, life, you wanted to live. Your family. What you'd do to achieve it... You're right. At night I'd constantly think of a simple life, imagine myself as one of the mundane citizens in this very city. But with the Brotherhood... Those thoughts were tarnished. Whether it's that they still hunt me, or that, I've known only their ways for the longest time..."

He inclined his head and looked at Shealyne. "I suppose we're more similar than we realized. We acted out for our own family. All we wished for is a true family... But their false family prevents that."

To say Shealyne was scared when she was pinned by Mathieu was an understatement. She was terrified, both at his sudden rage and the madness in his eyes.

But as soon as the storm arrived, it ended, and she calmed upon the man simply collapsed upon her. She frowned as her arms slowly wrapped around him in hug-since she could not truly move well due to his greater weight, "I was scared. Scared of what you would think. Scared of you getting mad."

"It is hard. Trying to be normal. I cannot do it. They may accept, but they cannot understand. Sometimes I feel like that is all I am: a murderer." The woman exhaled. She was tired.

Mathieu imagined him and Shealyne back then. "I... Yes, I probably would. Back then, and how close we-I, felt..." And he would've felt the cut deeper, had time and distance not dulled the blade. "It does not matter now, I suppose... Ah, but it is still good to have somebody who understands. Somebody you don't have to act with, as I have had to these past few months." The breton shifted. Now his face was an inch apart from Shealyne's. "I'm certain you know how much it pains, to pass through years so seamlessly and have everything changed. Nothing familiar. None to talk to about the past you once lived in."

Oh, dear. His face was so very close to hers. Was he doing that on purpose? Shealyne's eye stared into his own, before briefly drifting to his lips. Her own slightly parted, as if to speak, though she ended up gliding her tongue over her lips, as if in a sudden nervousness, as they briefly glistened due to the coated saliva.

And then she felt an odd tingling upon her lips, as if a desire to caress her own against his. Well, it was a sudden desire, and she knew that well. Damn her girlish behavior! She needed to resist and be a mature adult! If vampirism did not prevent her from blushing, her face would be flushed a reddish hue. Ugh! Two hundred years old and acting like a foolish girl!

The Breton made her lips form into a soft smile, a fang poking out and jutting into her bottom lip. It was an attempt to try and quell the tingling. It did. Kind of. If only because her lower lip began to gently trickle blood, "I...have to remind myself that you and I now are not exactly the same as we were in the past. It is hard. Not thinking of you as a lover."

"But I know how it feels. The world changes, but you remain the same, untouched by time. An enigma of an era long passed forced into a foriegn one. A new one. And no one remembers. It is sad." Shealyne exhaled, though resumed to smile, "Though it is okay, yes? You do not have to be lonely anymore, if you still desire my companionship."

"At least you have had the living world to keep you distracted. In... In the, Void... There's nothing. Nothing but, your memories."

Mathieu could feel Shealyne's warm breath on his lips, causing some temptation to stir within him. He leaned in, just slightly, and parted his lips - but jerked away quickly. Then Mathieu pulled himself up off of Shealyne. Even after what's been spoken, he still couldn't break from simple, lustful desires? How nettling. It was funny, though; at least they had gotten to conversing. When he stood the man offered a hand to help Shealyne pull herself up.

"I'd... Still... Like your company, yes..."

* * *

**How much we update is ultimately up to how much you dear readers would want to see us continue this story. **

**Criticism and analysize of characters are appreciated.**

**Thank you for reading and have a nice day! **


	2. Meeting the lil' bastards

The woman released a deep exhale she didn't realize she was holding. Sithis...she was glad what little of her mature adulthood was just saved. She thought she was above such simple desires. But that was easy when she lived alone...

Shealyne grasped Mathieu's hand, and pulled herself to her feet. She hesitated slightly to let go, but she did. Her hands then went to brush the dirt off of her back to the best she could, "Thank you. I, uh, if you want, we can talk more at the Restoration Chapter. It is a big building in Whiterun's farmlands. But it is more quiet than the tavern, because, Nords do not like magic. You can rest there, too, if you want. I do not go there as much as I should."

Ugh. She needed a drink..., "But I am sorry. I hope the memories were not too torturous."

Mathieu shrugged off her comment without a word. Instead, he stepped behind Shealyne, "I assume you know the way there? I, don't believe I've heard much of the Restoration Chapter. Never visited it."

"I am not surprized. If you want, I can teach you some magic. Or try to." The Sauveterre spoke, moving out of Whiterun. She wasn't sure how good of a teacher she was.

"That'd be... Fine. I used to dabble with it, in my spare time. Not so much anymore." Mathieu said. Magic tended to be much more draining on him nowadays. He couldn't explain why that was. Lack of training, maybe? But even with basic spells he seemed to strain.

"I could not do anything, at first. The only thing I could do was whine and complain. You can be good at most things, if you give it enough time, or will power." The woman spoke.

"... Naturally." Was all Mathieu would say, apparently losing himself in thought and silence as they ambled along. Conflicting feelings. Awhile passed before he inquired, "What is this Restoration Chapter like, anyway? A school, like those in Cyrodiil?"

"Uh, yes. But the Mage's Guild disbanded shortly after the Oblivion Crisis. People do not like magic. But, uh, on topic: this school is for training Restoration. And that is it." Shealyne spoke, smiling slightly at the man, "Simple, no?"

As the pair moved, the three story building was in sight, "Ah, and, Mathieu? Please do not be angry at my sons. They are here. I would rather have you be angry at me than them. I will be busy for a little while, but once you get inside, there will be a big study. A library. There is stairs nearby. Go to the second floor. There are four private rooms...actually, never you mind. I will be going there anyway. Just ignore any yelling you hear. Or smashing."

Mathieu flashed her a questioning look. Still, he shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Ah. Her twin sons, then. The ones he had with that Guilbert Jemane... Tch. But they were here - alive? So vampires must've passed their immortality to their offspring, or at the least a longer life-span. Wait - did that mean -

Mathieu smiled. Did that mean his daughter could be alive as well? Although, by the way Shealyne spoke of her, Runa could just as well have been killed off... And that killed off his smile.

Shealyne was oblivious to Mathieu's facial expressions-much less his concern. She opened the door to the building, the main room looking more like a library than anything where people could read or study. Other than its large amounts of books and various furnishing, it had a fireplace. Which was the woman's favorite.

She did not bother explaining as she took the stairs to the second floor, and thus, the more private quarters as juxtiposed with the communal ones. Shealyne merely opened a door, "You can stay here. It has a tub, too. There is a pully-lever thing outside the window to fill the tub with a bucket. Irrigation system uses water from the river. Ohh, did you ever have a hot bath? They are nice. I can heat the water for you with magic, if you want."

Shealyne sure was excited about warm water. And in her mind, warm bath water was the best thing in the world.

"Erm... I suppose you could?" Mathieu said, heading over to lever she was talking about. Then he snickered. "Pully-lever thing... Pft!"

"Ah! Good!" Shealyne squealed ever so slightly. Yay warm baths! The woman, however, noted Mathieu's reaction, "Something wrong with the pully-lever thing?" Maybe he knew its real name?

Mathieu shook his head, smirking. "No. It's just... "Pully-lever thing?" Hah! How endearing." Soon the man was done filling the tub.

"Endearing? Furf!" The woman snorted, though was content to wait. Once ready, the woman simply walked up to the tub, rolled up her sleeve, and plopped her arm elbow deep into the water.

"You smirk quite a lot. More than you actually smile, I think." The Sauveterre spoke, a basic fire spell erupting from her hand as it began to heat the water. She bet the Nords would be less miserable if they all had warm baths. They certainly would smell better...

"Oh? I didn't think that mattered." Mathieu began removing his things; the war axe, dagger, crossbow and its pouch of bolts, and his satchel were all discarded on the floor. Then he worked on the straps to his Dawnguard boots and gloves.

"It does not. Though there was an Argonian that always smirked. Smirked. And chuckled. He was vexing. I wanted to punch his teeth in every damn time." The Sauveterre spoke, flame still spewing from her hand. It was sad. Sometimes people just irritated her for no reason.

The woman then noticed the odd weapon that was the crossbow. It looked hard to handle, "What is that weapon? If that the one you slew the dragon with?"

"That? It's a, crossbow. I didn't bear it when I killed the dragon - I only received it about, a month ago, I believe... They are only made by... Select smiths." The Dawnguard, that is. But of course he wouldn't say that. "Have you been to Dwarven Ruins? This weapon is like one of the mechanisms you'd find there. If only smaller."

"Oh. So it is a fancy bow." The woman nodded. Or...a least she assumed it was. It had 'bow' in its name. And it seemed to shoot strange arrows.

"Though, no. Just a lot of bars, ruins with Daedra, and ruins with undead. Even towns with undead and Daedra. Sometimes both. And cursed houses." Shealyne spoke. Traveling with Nol was very, very odd..., "How is a crossbow different than a bow?"

She figured it was just more queer looking and fancy.

Mathieu went to grab the crossbow. "With a crossbow, a bolt can already be set in before you aim the first shot. You don't have to hold it yourself. It can be much, deadlier, than a regular bow with its speed, but it takes longer to reload it... Heh. It's best for an initial shot... And depending on, that may be the fatal shot." The man held out the bow for Shealyne to see, pointing to certain parts as he talked. There was some sense of pleasure in explaining how it worked; by all means he wasn't an expert with it, but Durak taught him well enough.

Shealyne listened, nodding, "So...it is easier to use and requires less skill than a normal bow? But it is a lot more lethal. Strange, but good." Huh. It was an odd contraption...

The water began to steadily bubble and boil.

"Yes. I assume to make this, you must follow old dwarven plans, at least somewhat. Hence why so few construct them."

Mathieu noticed the water was boiling now. "... Thanks... You can go busy yourself where you're needed, now." He fiddled a little with his belt, though not undoing it.

"Hmm? Ah, yes." Shealyne nodded, taking her hand out of the water. She then produced two bottles of ale from her satchel, "You can keep them. I will probably bathe and drink a bit after I tend to my sons. I will need it. Enjoy your bath."

Mathieu accepted the two bottles of ale, but didn't bother to pop them open at this moment. "Thank you." He said simply. He started unfastening his robes, but waited to pull them off until Shealyne left the room.

The woman then took her leave, and closed the door behind her. Ugh...now onto her brats.

... Huh. Finally taking a warm bath did feel pretty nice. Comfortable. Usually Mathieu would simply take a dunk in bitterly cold water, whether at a pond somewhere or the small lake at Dayspring Canyon, and it doubled as a shock to his senses that would instantly rouse him from his tired state... The breton yawned. He closed his eyes, sinking further into the tub, lazily ruminating.

While not next to the man's quarters, there was audio of an arguement from several rooms over. While a bit muffled, it was certainly audible.

Mathieu pricked up his ears at what sounded to be an argument coming from rooms away, muffled but otherwise apparent. Huh. Maybe that was Shealyne and one of her sons... One of those little bastards that she kept hidden from him. Mathieu scoffed. The man surprised himself by how he was able to handle it initially, without lashing out. Perhaps he was too numbed from the shock of finding out about Runa. Or it was the sheer desperation of having someone to relate to. Hmph. But now he had private time to let it set in. Fester.

Maybe he would follow what he told his fellow hunter. Use her for information, his plans. Eye-for-an-eye, he guessed.

The arguing seemed to only get louder, and louder. And perhaps there was the vague sound of crying or sobbing. And then more yelling. And then the sound of a vase smashing against the wall. And a wooden chair or table being thrown and broken. When the sounds of a scuffle, along with more cursing and ranting and screaming. Then the sound of someone hitting the ground.

Then there was the sound of silence for quite a long time, minus the occassional muffled crying.

Then the slasm of a door, followed by brisk, swift and angry footfalls. Then the opening and closing of another door.

Shealyne was fucking livid. Livid, and upset. It felt like her chest slammed into a brick wall, and it felt like angry fuzziness in her chest. She was going to do exactly what she said she would do when speaking to Mathieu: bathe and drink. Not in that exact order. But she wanted to try and destress herself before she broke something.

But that would almost be impossible. Because breaking things felt damn good.

Mathieu grew increasingly worried as the sounds of conflict grew louder and louder. A part of him wanted to bolt up and rush over to Shealyne's defense - which he could hear her voice clearly - and confront whoever it was she was screaming at, her own son or no. It was like an instinct in him to do whenever she was near. But another part wished of him to simply stay here, let her deal with it. After all, if it was her son, it also wasn't HIS son.

Shealyne almost felt ill she was so angry. She was pretty sure this was the worst she ever got. And no matter how hard she wanted to punch the wall, or kick a table, or break something, she couldn't bring herself to do that. She was far too worried about disturbing Mathieu. She knew the man needed to rest. He probably did not sleel for a long time. And mortals needed their sleep. And she also felt guilty. She still wanted to talk to him, but she did not want the talking to be about her pathedic problems and feelings. She felt bad that the only things she learned of him was that he had a fancy special bow called a crossbow, slew a dragon and made its flesh melt off, had a lot of friends in Whiterun, and was only back for a few months.

She was eager to learn more of him. What did he mean when he mentioned Dragonborn? What was he doing? What did he do? What adventures did he go on? Did he have any companions? How was he adjusting to a normal society? Was breaking his old habits hard? Or easy? Did he get urges to kill, to torture?

Just...things. Things that didn't involve him getting mad at her or making her feel bad for upsetting him or being a shitty mother and failing parenthood.

No. She didn't want to think about that. The only good thing was that her anger was replaced by sadness. And she didn't want to break things anymore.

Except the empty ale bottle she just threw against the wall in a sudden fit, the glass shattering against the wall.

"Oh, shit...sorry!" The woman called, not even sure if the man could hear. Well...that felt good, at least.

Mathieu was nearly nodding off to sleep when he heard the sound of glass shattering, and his eyes flew open as he tensed up, only to remember where he was and who he was surrounded by. Well shit. He guessed he was too used too sleeping in the wilderness most days, if at all, and sleeping very lightly at that. Still, what was that noise, who made it - was somebody breaking in? -

No. It was Shealyne. He noticed her call out "-sorry!" faintly. "Are you alright?!" He called back, though not willing to get out just yet. He liked warm baths now.

Ops. Fuck. She disturbed him! Damn her impulsive bitch behavior!

"Uh...yes! Go back to...doing what ever you were doing!" The Breton called. Ugh. Fuck. Okay. Fine. Okay.

... ...now, she could work on that bath!

And could let Mathieu be!

Yay!

Mathieu sighed, going back to his thoughts, sinking himself back into serenity.

The Sauveterre enjoyed warm baths for a reason. They relaxed her. Unfortunately, they also made her sleepy. Though it was not due from physical fatigue more so from mental and emotional stain. For better or worse, the Breton ended up knodding off, snoring softly and drooling upon herself.

Mathieu stayed in the bath for a couple minutes more before getting out. Donning his clothing and re-equipping himself before exiting the room to meander around the building.

As the man wandered around, two men were sitting at a table. It was quite obvious they were twins, and judging by their physical build, they were more so warriors than mages. Though both wore simple clothing. Well, not the one with slicked back hair. Connor sported Daedric Guantlets. And he was attempting to use said guantlets to cram frost salts into his brother's very black, and very blue, eye socket.

Aiden was currently grumbling with shakey hands, attempting to keep the offending hands at bay. Other than Aiden's black eye, one of the only things of note was three claw marks upon his jaw from getting bitch slapped by the lich.

The blondes were currently bickering at each other, and each were annoyed.

Upon the table, between the men, was a little white blob. Those this little white blob appeared to be a dragon hatchling. Or a lizard hatchling, for it was wingless. The creature was tiny enough to fit in the palm of one's hand. It's head was clearly draconic, though it lacked any sort of horns. Aside from its head, its pudgey belly was the largest part of it, and its long forelimbs and hindlimbs seemed little more than sticks, its tail lightly curled around itself.

Due to its rolly polly form, the chick could do little but sit, and roll around helplessly. As such, the tiny red eyed lizard was currently chirping its head off, hungry and wanting food, as if a young bird calling to its parents.

The twins, however, were currently attempting to ignore the hatchling, and instead were bickering with each other.

Mathieu just so happened upon the two men sitting at a table while he was sauntering along. There was also some weird ass white blob on the table. It moved, too. But Mathieu's attention was more focused on the men, twins, bickering with each other and paying him no heed. These were Shealyne's sons, then? The breton fought back bitterly remarking this, instead making his attention known by approaching them and saying in a pleasant, if subdued, tone, "Greetings. Looks as if, someone, had their way with you. Need any assistance?"

The men paused in their bickering to look at Mathieu. Aiden merely grumbled under his breath.

Connor, however, smiled, and laughed, "Yeah! Mama laid him on his ass right quick. Serves him right, too."

Aiden merely snorted, "Does not. Mother is a bitch."

"You hit her first. And she hit you back. Sounds like a fair deal." Connor shrugged his shoulders.

"Shut up." Aiden hissed, the soldier moving to actually look at Mathieu, "No. We do not need your help."

"Don't mind him, yeah? He's just on that time of the month." Connor spoke to Mathieu, laughing at his own comment.

Aiden clearly did not like that, "Go suck a whore's tit, Connor."

The warrior frowned, "Heeeey. That's mean to talk about Mama..."

Such a lovely pair.

Mathieu had to bite his lip to keep himself from spitting out a response to the two. To the fact that he HIT her. And to that last comment. But he had... Conflicting feelings about it. Just a little bit. "Whore" was always the first insult he had in his mind when he thought of women he didn't like. Or had done him wrong. Mathieu let out a weak laugh, sitting down at the table with them. "Oh. Hah. Guessing you're Shealyne's sons?"

"Yep!" Connor chirped, smiling. His large canines were visible, something his brother lacked. If only due to filing down the fangs.

"Hmmmm. Unfortunately." Aiden murmured.

The warrior decided to ignore his brother's surly demeaner, "You one of Mama's friends?"

"What friends?" The soldier snapped, "She has no friends."

Connor frowned, "Shut up, Aiden."

"Ah yes, I am her, friend. An old friend. My name's... Mathieu. She's never spoken your names to me, though." Mathieu said. He eyed the little blob on the table as they had talked. It looked like... A lizard. A fat lizard.

"And she never mentioned you." Aiden commented. His hands were shaking as they rested upon the table. So to prevent that, he balled them into fists. It didn't help. Damn!

"I'm Connor. And Mister Moody Butt is Aiden. And that's Cunt-Face." The warrior grinned, pointing to the still chirping lizard chick. Only it was now begging food from Mathieu, mouth agape. The chick attempted to get up with its hind legs, but only ended up rolling haplessly upon the table, arms flailing to try and right itself.

"That is not 'Cunt-Face', you dolt. That is Jynx." Aiden grumbled.

Connor shook his head, "She ain't your dumb dog. She's Cunt-Face. 'Cause she's ugly."

Aiden looked like he was about to say something insulting, though managed to stop himself, "He. Jynx is a he..."

The warrior shook his head, as if to shoo away the idea, "Nu-uh. She has no balls. I see no balls."

"Because the balls-are fuckin-ahh!" Whatever reserve of willpower Aiden was using to not sock his brother, it seemed to be gone. Rather, the man folded his arms, and rested his brow upon them. Ow...his eye...he wanted skooma. He didn't want to deal with his idiot brother...

Connor took Aiden's withdrawl as a victory, turning to Mathieu, "So, you know Mama, yeah? How?"

Well, obviously she hadn't told her sons of Mathieu yet. He figured that. He wondered if she must have omitted her life with the Dark Brotherhood from them, as well. "Me and her met in Cyrodiil, years back. In Cheydinhal, if I remember correctly. Nothing... Too exciting, happened - we merely met each other and traveled together for some time."

Connor nodded, "What did you do?"

While Aiden didn't bother to look up from his castle-arms, he felt the need to comment something, if only to further insult his mother. He was still right sore about his black eye, "They were probably participating in the horizonal club..."

The warrior blinked, confused by his brother's meaning, "Huh?"

A low groan could be heard from Aiden's folded arms, "...Sex..."

That seemed to fairly upset Connor, "Noooo...shut the fuck up!"

"It is true. Probably. Everyone who travels together eventually does..." The soldier shrugged his shoulders from his slumped position.

Connor shook his head, as if refusing to listen, "Noooo...nu-uh! Stoooop!"

"Yeeees. Look at like...anyone whose ever traveled together...like, ever..." Aiden murmured.

"Noooo..." Connor murmured softly, before jamming his fingers in his ears, "I'm not listening. Fuck off with your lies and horseshit!"

"Okay..." Aiden propped his head up, "Name one damn pair who never had intercourse despite traveling together. And family does not count..."

Connor, however, either ignored Aiden's challenge, or simply could not hear him due to jamming his own fingers in his ears.

Aiden merely snorted.

Mathieu almost grinned. Almost laughed. Ohhh, they didn't even know...

"No... No, that never happened. We just, explored, I suppose. Delved into caves, ruins - abandoned areas." He lied.

While it was questionable if Connor heard Aiden, he most certainly heard Mathieu, and pulled his fingers out of his ears, "Ha! In your fucking face!"

Aiden only grumbled in response, "What a surprise."

Mathieu shifted his gaze to the pudgy lizard waddling around on the table. "... What is that thing? Some type of, lizard?" Curiosity was killing him.

"A dragon! Lizard! Thing!" Connor replied, "No one really knows."

"A dragon. Kind of. I think? But not the big bastards. There was a pack of these lizard things. They were nasty. Kind of like...vampire lizards, I guess. They seemed to feed on blood. But when they died, they kind of shriveled up into a mini...uh, dro-ger? Versions? The Nord version of zombies." Aiden tried to clarify.

"I kept one as a trophy. It was gross, but neat. Then I cut my finger on it! And my trophy kind of...turned into...this little...ugly thing. Cunt-Face." Connor frowned. He would rather have a trophy to show off his feats. Not a...little noisy pudge ball baby lizard thing. That couldn't do anything. Or look like the scary beasts he described.

"Jynx. He is a baby now. I think. It was either keep him, or crush him with a boot." Aiden murmured, "Ruccia likes him."

"Her." Connor chided.

"Him. Even Ruccia agrees..." The soldier grumbled, "So...he is my pet. Or may as well be. Connor left him to freeze to death."

"Huh..." Mathieu was hesitant, but he reached a single finger towards Jynx, Cunt-Face - whatever it was - and tried petting its head. "... Never seen anything like it. Where exactly did you find it? And those, other lizards?"

Jynx allowed the Breton to pet his head. Though upon sensing prey, mindlessly snapped at the Breton's finger. Not that it would cause much damage, for the chick was far from strong. It just wanted food. Which was blood.

"Uhh...a big ass castle? Something with a...V? Or an H?" Connor was unsure.

"Ow! -" Mathieu jerked his hand away from Jynx a little, though it's nip was far from harmful. It was more like a small pricking from a nail.

"Oh-bad, Cunt-Face! Bad!" Connor scolded the chick, "Sorry. She's hungry."

"Than feed him." Aiden remarked. Fuck.

"What? She ain't starving. Look at how fat she is!" The warrior exclaimed.

The soldier grunted, "It is baby fat. Lizard baby fat. Fuckin' feed her-fuck!-him, Connor!"

"No. Not until you apologize to Mama." The man responded.

"No." Was Aiden's simple reply.

"... What were you two fighting about?" Mathieu asked Aiden. "I could hear some of your little, conflict from the other room. Banging. Smashing... Sobbing." The breton leered at him when he spoke the last word.

Aiden, at that, raised his head, and narrowed his eyes at Mathieu, "None of your business."

"You can ask her, probably. I'm sworn to twin secrecy not to tell..." Connor replied with a slight frown, "At least not in my brother's company."

"Fine. Of course." Mathieu couldn't care to stay with these two any longer than he has. But neither did he care to bother Shealyne and learn even more family secrets today. So, instead, he occupied himself with the baby lizard; petting it, careful not to let it bite him, knocking it over gently and watching as it struggled to get up with it's little legs. Ah, creatures. So simple they were. Sure pets could whine and pester, but at least they didn't speak, unlike people.

Jynx would indeed have trouble getting up when knocked over. His pudgy build was simply not one that allowed graceful movement. Despite this, he would resume to chirp at the pestering man.

Mathieu smirked at the lizard as he chirped up at him, but after some time squirming the man grabbed Jynx and gently brought him back to standing. "What does he eat?" Questioned Mathieu, nonchalantly. He hadn't even paid much mind to if the twins were quarreling with each other again or if they were watching him bully around their pet.

Aiden appeared to not care about his pet being a bully victim. Connor, however, was watching slightly. Poor Cunt-Face, "She eats blood. I think? Yeah. Blood." The warrior nodded.

... Well, if no one else was going to feed it... Mathieu pulled out his war axe, running it's edge along his palm. Blood trickled down his hand, his wrist, and he held it out to Jynx. If it tried tearing apart his hand? Oh well - he'd just tip it over again.

Jynx, upon sensing blood, chirped excitedly. Though rather than biting, he simply licked at the flowing blood with a tiny tongue. For such a little thing, he was a glutton for food.

Jynx would gorge himself upon the blood. Which wasn't a large amount, given his size. But soon the chick's white scales began to flush red in small, almost intricate patterns.

Mathieu let the creature lap his blood up as much as it could. "... Pft. It's not that hard, feeding it..." He said. Now that he thought of it, he remembered that he did this kind of thing to Shealyne... Once or twice. When she didn't have her phials filled or, something. Bellamont suddenly scowled, pulling his away from Jynx. He was a Dawnguard. He was ordered to kill vampires and rid Skyrim of their threat. And he had very much relished in his job, too. Yet here he was, in a house a vampire invited him into, sitting around with some half-vampires, letting a damn vampiric lizard baby take his blood. Wow. What a shameful Dawnguard he was right now.

"Huh...and Ruccia always complains he is rough when eating..." Aiden murmured. Damn.

... Which led to a problem he'd been contemplating since last night - how he'd extract information for the Dawnguard. Appease them, and himself. If there was anything substantial to know. Mathieu had been in this situation before, though rare it is, and he always found hostility when broaching the subject. He hated it. The man could ask the twins general questions, though he might have the best luck with Shealyne - but even with her he had to play carefully. He couldn't walk in to Fort Dawnguard empty-handed, either way.

Leaning back on his chair, donning a look of faux curiosity, Mathieu nonchalantly spoke, "So, I'm aware your mother is a vampire. I've never minded that, as I've always been curious about... Their kind... So I was wondering what that makes you. Half-blooded? You two don't look to have most of the... Distinct features... I'm, just curious."

For some reason Mathieu felt like he should be instantly regretting what he said.

Connor furrowed his brow at the man, "The fuck do'ya mean 'distinct features'?" Was that an insult? Connor thought so.

Aiden sniffed, rubbing his nose, "Mother fucked a non vampire guy. And out popped us. Very simple. Though I think half breeds are very rare. You say you are a half-pire to normal folks, and you are run out of town. Generally. You say you are a half-pire to vampires, and they try to kill you." The blonde shrugged, "So, you gotta kill them before they kill you. The only thing you need to know is that half breeds have all the pros, but none of the cons. It is a win-win. I just filed down my fangs, though."

Oh. So they killed other vampires to protect themselves. Well, that didn't give Mathieu a lead to work upon. Unless he continued to follow them and Shealyne, and just so happen to come across more of the fiends trying to kill them. Despite this, Mathieu smirked at Connor, "By that, I mean most of the vampires originating in Cyrodiil look "distinctly" like a bag of smashed asses and one look at them from a mile away could make you wretch and run for the hills screaming. As if they'd been sucking skooma since they were born, even from their mother's tit. THAT kind of 'distinction.' But not you two and your mother. Take it as a compliment!"

Damn. Usually Bellamont didn't speak that bluntly. Whether it was to spit some remark at them or to try and level down to their crudely humorous demeanor, he wasn't quite sure yet.

Whether it was meant as a compliment or not, Connor saw it as one giant insult. The man's temper flared, and in a sudden lunge from his seat, ripped Bellamont right out of his seat and hoisted him up off the ground, feet dangling. The warrior held the Dawnguard member with enough pressure that the claw like fingers of his guantlets were threatening to bruise and pierce Mathieu's neck.

"How 'bout I introduce my fist to your fuckin' rat bastard face!" The man snarled.

As Connor moved his free hand to do just that, he was halted upon hearing the voice of his mother.

Shealyne was not pleased. And despite the bruise and swelling on her jaw and lip, her eye was cold, and hard. As was her voice, "Connor. Open your hand, or I open your ribs." The woman's tone was low, crisp, and dark with a certain fluidity to it.

Almost instantly, Connor let go of Mathieu, allowing the Breton to be on the ground. He didn't want to test his mother's patience. She would back up her words...

Mathieu tumbled, falling back on his chair but throwing it too far backwards, sending it crashing to the floor along with him. He didn't lay there long. The man hoisted himself up swiftly, shooting Connor a glare before turning to Shealyne. "I meant no disrespect to him. Merely making a jest."

"Yes, a jest about how hideous vampires are..." The Sauveterre murmured, before making a shooing motion with her hands. Connor frowned, a bit like a scolded child, as he took the signal to leave, and took Aiden with. Not after picking up Jynx, of course.

"I apologize. They are not normally like this." Shealyne spoke, moving to inspect Mathieu for any injuries.

Their might have been light scratches upon Mathieu's neck from Connor's deadric gauntlets, but otherwise he was not harmed. "I suppose they've been going through some troubles?" Mathieu said calmly. As if what transpired moments before, had not. Hey - he wasn't directing it at them, per se. Just at any of the other foul beasts.

"Yes. Just as everyone else." Shealyne spoke, a hand lightly moving to carefully touch his neck with her fingertips, inspecting the scratches. It was then warm pulses would gently flutter against his neck, a Restoration spell in her palm.

Even when warmth enveloped, Mathieu felt himself shiver at the sudden contact. "Thank you. And... I, apologize." It couldn't be told if that was sincere or not.

"You are welcome." Shealyne spoke. Though she decided to ignore his appology as she removed her hand from his person, though still held her hand out, as if to accept and hold something, "Where else are you injured? I smell blood, no?"

Mathieu revealed his cut palm to her. "I, erm, fed their pet a bit. Jynx? Yes. Such a dear little thing, it is."

"Yes. Jynx." The Sauveterre nodded, moving to gently grasp the man's hand. She had to fight herself not to pull away. It was strange touching something with a warm pulse. Her children aside.

"He is a strange little beast." The woman commented, her other hand moving to perform a simple Restoration spell to heal the cut.

Mathieu decided to just not say anything further as Shealyne healed his palm. Damn. It felt far too tense in here, enough to cut with a knife. He noticed the bruising on the vampire's face, and opened his mouth, but decided against expressing his concern and simply began to walk away in silence when Shealyne was done, his mind set on perusing the study.

Shealyne merely watched the man walk away. Hmmmm. Was it something she said? The Breton was confused. All she knew was that her fingers felt funny.

Dragons. Nords. The history of ancient Skyrim. That's what he searched for as he inspected the bookshelves, his fingers grazing the covers of each book as he strolled. He learned that ancient nord culture had been deeply integrated with that of the dragons, and thus, the thu'um, the Voice. All of the nordic burial tombs he had explored rested a word wall within, an unknown piece of a shout for him to discover and unlock with time. He hoped in skimming through some historic accounts he could find some clue to another nordic ruin.

Shealyne, herself, had simply went to a quiet place to begin reading and responding to her letters. She was slacking in responding to the College, and thus, she had no doubt that she was a bad Arch Mage. At least in terms of responding to potentially important topics. Most of them, so far, were quite trivial. And thus, boring. Except the letters from the Jarls that oh, so tactfully denied her Chapter building projects. Some Jarls responded more courtly. Others less so. It was a bit easy to tell which internal political side they were on based on their responses. It was quite fun being vaguely insulted.

Otherwise, she recieved a letter that was fairly blunt and brief. It was regarding an arranged marriage. Pfff. Shealyne was surprised her mother was even writing to her to inform her of the marriage, even if the details were beyond vague. The Sauveterre half expected herself to just suddenly be pushed on an altar the next time she saw her mother at Solitude. Still...the marriage did not make sense to the woman. Why with the sudden marriage? Ewwww.

Alas, it was not something Shealyne wanted to dwell on. She would rather spend her time looking for books about skooma addiction. There were very few-if no-books on the topic.

Once he found some possible books, he sat down at a table, got a few rolls of parchment and a charcoal, and started studying. Ah, they were voluminous ones, though. Extensive accounts. Hopefully the day wouldn't be over when he got something accomplished.

After once more failing to find any books regarding skooma, the woman grunted, disheartened. It was then she noticed Mathieu, and the large volumes of literature he had. Hmmph. Someone knew what he was doing.

Still, Shealyne decided to approach, "Do you require assistance?" The Sauveterre asked. She guessed the man was looking for something specific. But unless one knew a book by heart, finding said specific something could be very time consuming.

Mathieu glanced at Shealyne. "Why, yes. It would make things easier." He said. "I'm looking for the locations of nordic ruins. I'd assume these books would reveal something, but it would take... Some time. If there's mentions at all."

The woman nodded, before simply pulling out a chair and sitting across from the man. Shealyne resumed to grab a tomb, and work on skimming through the contents. Not that she knew any names of the Nordic ruins by heart. But she figured it would not be too difficult with contex clues.

Mathieu wasn't keeping track of the time, but awhile had passed before he was finally content with what they uncovered from the tomes; written in notes were a couple of possible places, and though a lot had nothing more than names to them, a few were definite leads. The breton closed the recent book he had read and dropped it atop the stack. "Thank you, Shealyne. It's a, great help in knowing these now."

And he felt like heading towards these ruins soon, too. He quite liked it. Dungeon delving, that is. He thought of someone that didn't mind accompanying him on these ventures - and soon a plan was forming. Mathieu got up.

"Do you still have things to tend to here? I'd presume so."

The Breton closed her book as well, all too happy to have the the activity end. Good. All that reading was hurting her eye. And every time she blinked, the words were all blurry and her eye needed to refocus.

Shealyne rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. She would have looked at Mathieu, but alas, her eye was busy being massaged, "No, nothing that is immediate..."

"Ah. Well, I've been, considering going to the Reach to meet with a friend of mine. Even search for one of these ruins. If she's willing... Perhaps you'd like to come along?" Bellamont lifted the books off and started placing them back in their original spots.

Upon hearing the man speak, she ceased rubbing her eye, red iris looking upon Mathieu, "She?"

While it may have been trivial, that brief mentioning terrified Shealyne. Shealyne was not used to such a rapid onslaught of emotions, and within a day, she was almost positive she experienced every emotion possible. Except one. Well, until now. And that emotion was jealousy. Jealousy mixed with cold fear.

But the Sauveterre didn't understand why. She was used to being calm, to being in control of her own feelings...but lately, she was just a cart wreck. And that scared her. What if she was never normal again? What was happening to her? Why wasn't she in control?

In Shealyne's confussion, she was not sure if she should smile, or frown. Thus, the woman initially frowned. Then she smiled, nodding her head, "Yes! I would like to talk and spend time with you!"

And then frowned, "If you would want me to, that is. I want things to get better between us, but I understand if you have had enough...I thought we would have more fun. But instead it has just been sad and scary and...the opposite of fun. Un-fun."

Ahhh! Fuck these emotions! Shealyne didn't want them. They made her pathedic and annoying. She was annoying herself! Oh, Sithis...she wished she could rip out her own heart out to stop these strange feelings. But then she would die. And she didn't want that. Why did she want to be human again?

Mathieu arched his brows. "Yes. She... And you're right. It hasn't been the, warmest, reunion thus far. It's barely been half a day. Our, relationship might not be as it was anymore, perhaps far from, yet your companionship might be the least thing that bothers me this moment. I'd like it. For the most part." He flashed the vampire a quick smile, as if to reassure her.

The woman barely managed to produce a weak smile back. She then got up from her seat, pushing the chair in, "As you wish. I am ready when you are."

Yay! She got to spend time with him! He was probably lying. That fuck. But, at least he was a distraction. A distraction from slaundering off to Cyrodiil to go chop off their daughter's head. Maybe that's why Shealyne was so sad and a mess? Mathieu was making her think of things and worry about emotions and mistakes she thought she put to rest.

While she tried to get her mind off of the topic, she couldn't. Even when she attempted her damndest to keep quiet, she couldn't. Because the more she dwelled, the more she worried about Mathieu. And the more she worried about him, the more bad she felt. It was hell. Shealyne wasn't even sure if being raped by a lycan was worse than this.

She already decided that she would tell him. That their daughter was the Listener. He deserved to know. He was the father. But it broke her heart, for it was cruel. Perhaps Mathieu would forgive her easier if she lied. But she fucked up enough in the past when they were lovers. She didn't want him doubting her loyalty ever again. If she had to prove her loyalty, and love, by telling him the truth, and in return she only gained his hate rather than his affection, than so be it. It would just prove that Mathieu was no better than her husband...and she would have been a fool again for wasting her time.

"Mathieu? I, uh-perhaps when we get to the Reach, or whenever you would desire, perhaps I can show you my memories? Of Runa?" The Breton questioned, voice soft, "I...I just want you to see her. I cannot stop time, or rewind it, but...but I can do that much. I just want you see our baby." There was sorrow, as well as hope within her voice.

Still, Shealyne would rather have the man see Runa for the innocent little girl she was, rather than the moster she became. If Mathieu did accompany her in slaying Runa, she would want him to remember their child as that. Their child. Back when things were a lot more innocent and hopeful.

"Really?" Mathieu could not hold down the elation in his voice. "You would do that? For me?... Yes, that would be nice, to at least glimpse her... Sometime when we set up camp to rest during our journey, you could do that, maybe. Certainly."

Oh, did he almost tell her to show him now. He wanted to see their daughter terribly much; what she looked like, how she behaved, what she enjoyed doing and what she was interested in, how she was like with her mother... Everything. Yet at the same time this made him downhearted, because with the way Shealyne spoke of her, memories may be the only way he'd ever know Runa. He wondered what happened. The twins were alive through their vampire blood, so why wouldn't Runa? How and why did she die?

He hoped that even so, she had lived a good life. A normal life. No matter how short. And he hoped Shealyne would've been trying her damndest to prevent their child's untimely fate. The vampire could lie and betray his love and not care for him all she wanted back then, but she better have cared enough about their child to try. Try to raise her well, try to protect her as much as she could. That's what he would have done.

Mathieu likely looked in a trance right now. All his hopes and thoughts had seemed to resurface at her suggestion. The man snapped out of it, checked his person to assure he hadn't forgotten something, and started towards the door. "If it's fine, then, I'd rather start now. The Reach can be a long trip if you make a point to avoid its dangers."

Shealyne nodded, and followed behind the man. She was smiling. Oh, she was so estatic! It was exciting! She hoped Mathieu would like Runa! Be happy to see her, even if it was only in memories. She hoped he saw that she tried her best. Even if it may not have been enough. It was scary as much as it was exciting.

"Thank you, Mathieu." Was all the woman said as she resumed to smile.

Mathieu glanced back. "It's nothing, Shealyne..."

Oddly, when they stepped out of the Restoration Chapter, Mathieu could feel this nettling sense of dread, as if something was observing them - yet as far as he could see there was no one with them. He kept alert, but didn't tell Shealyne of this feeling right off. He figured it was his natural paranoia when out afield.

He unfurled his map. "Once we meet with my friend in the Reach, we'll immediately go into, Haafingar. We'll likely stay in Solitude for a day, perhaps more, as we search for the tomb in that area."

... Well, so much for avoiding Solitude. That instantly killed the Sauveterre's smile. Oh, well. She guessed a possible confrontation with her mother was worth it if it meant traveling with her Brother.

In order to avoid the thought, Shealyne briefly listened. Haalfingar? That is a dumb name. She would never remember it.

"So, this Half-Finger is a ruin, yes? Is this due to you and the Dragonborn? You said you are such, I think. Does that make you a long lost Septim?" The woman asked.

Mathieu chuckled. "Oh, no, Haafingar is the, region where Solitude resides..." Then he murmured, "It's a stupid name..."

"But yes, I am a Dragonborn... Yet I don't know how, or why, I am. Whether it's from mother, or father, or if I am connected to the Septim bloodline. Somehow." Well, that was quite a peculiar idea. Almost funny, in a way. Him and mother never lived in the lap of luxury, yet if that was actually true, he was also part of the richest family in Tamriel. Hell. Martin Septim could've been his distant cousin or something... But wait. Would that validate him to be heir of the Emperor's throne?

By the Nine.

"...Oh. Ops. I like Half-Finger better. Haalfingar is strange and I will forget it anyway. The Nords have queer names for things...even their natives." The woman spoke.

"Hmmm. I always throught being Dragonborn was only a bloodline. I do not know how anyone else can be a Dragonborn if not of royal blood." Shealyne spoke, thought a bit, then laughed, "That is a funny thought. You being a Septim. Should I start calling Mathieu Septim? Or Mathieu Bellamont-Septim?" The red heard questioned in jest, laughing lightly.

Mathieu couldn't help but crack a smile, "... Pfft. By the gods... If I so happened to be, then perhaps I should march over to Solitude or the Imperial City and, declare my birthright of being heir to the throne. Hah. If it's not too late. I've heard a bit of this, Emperor Mede now?"

The woman resumed to chuckle lightly before quieting, "Mede. Yes. Though there are probably extensive records on the Septim breeding lineage. Nobles love keeping track of their own bloodlines. Even illegitimate ones. I would not be surprised if there are records in the Imperial City. They may not directly point to you, but you may be able to see a common ancestor. Like your father and his family or something." The Sauveterre spoke.

"Of course, if you are a true heir to the Septim bloodline, expect women to be throwing their panties at you and many a rich noble parents throwing their daughter's doweries at you for marriage." Shealyne further emphasised her point by producing a low, almost sultry whistle, as if one might make towards an attractive woman.

"Ha! Lucky you, no?" The Breton teased.

"Yes. So lucky that I'd have ladies trying to get in my pants, for the rest of my days, until I have to wed some idiot noble woman that I don't care for more than for looks. And sex, I suppose." Mathieu said, tone in mock boredom.

"That is why I ran away when I did. I did not want the marriage bed. It is not fun. It is not uncommon for noble women to be married to men at least twenty years older. At sixteen young girls are usually married off, though I have seen girls as young as twelve be married off to men in their forties. The parents arrange these marriages, naturally. Usually for money or power. It is sad." Shealyne spoke, "Well, errr, at least you will be wanted."

The woman shuttered slightly at the thought of the marriage bed. Nope. Nope. Nope.

"Bah, I do not like sex."

Mathieu simply gave Shealyne a bemused look. Though, with some of the things the vampire used to confide with Mathieu in, and one or two things he himself witnessed, he probably shouldn't have been surprised. Oh... He wished that hasn't still been happening to her...

The woman blinked, before noticing the look upon Mathieu's face, "What?"

Maybe she said too much? Opsie dopsie.

Mathieu shook his head, "Nothing. I'm unsure if it'd be too, personal, for you to want to share, anyway."

"Pfff! I am old. Nothing is too personal anymore. At least to certain people. By which, I mean you. No one else tends to care to ask. Or I have simply not spoken about it because the time has passed." The woman slightly shrugged her shoulders.

"...Ah. Well, about the, sex... In all the time I've been gone, you haven't been... Violated, again, have-"

There was a break in the calm as a rustling came from nearby. Mathieu stopped dead. Just as he craned his neck towards the sparse cluster of bushes to their side, leaves parted, and out forth lunged a figure, dark as a shadow, that tackled Mathieu to the ground and thrust a blade over their head. Ready to strike.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and have a good day!**


	3. Kinslayers

**Thanks for sticking with this story so far! I found this chapter a bit hard to write due to the content.**

**Rating will go up to M.**

**Warning: Torture scene and protagonists still behaving like sulky lil' bitches.**

* * *

While Shealyne hadn't been abstute in observing her surroundings, she was swift to react. With magic, of course. That being, her response was to cast a potent paralyze spell at the offended. She personally would have gone with a shock spell, but then she may have accidentally hit Mathieu. And a paralyze spell was good at getting information, or at least subduing targets.

The attacker had been too occupied with Mathieu; just as the blade was wrought down it abruptly stopped, its tip poking Mathieu right between the eyes. The figure froze. Bellamont shoved - the attacker fell to the ground as stiffly as a statue being knocked over. He jolted upright. With the person still, he could now tell who it was; leather outfit and cowl, mask covering the face, endowed with colors of sanguine and black. It was a Dark Brotherhood Assassin.

"Of course... This is the, second time they've sent out a contract for me... Thank you, Shealyne. I don't know if I could have used my voice in time..."

While Shealyne did not recognize the armor, she did recognize the Black Hand symbol upon the armor, "You are welcome, Mathieu."

The Sauveterre then went towards the assassin to simply render them neutral. Which involved breaking their arms, which the woman did with two swift-if forceful kicks to each arm. She didn't feel like breaking each individual finger to pry the blade from their hands.

"Break a leg, yes? Ohhh, we can torture this one, no? It will be fun." The woman smiled.

Mathieu let out a low, dark laugh. "Ohhh, yes... I want to see if they're willing to spill some details." The man turned the assassin on their back, still paralyzed, unsheathing and burrowing his dawnguard war axe into a kneecap. The assassin could not speak - but oh, did he anticipate the screaming when the spell wore off.

"Ha! Yes!" The Sauveterre laughed. She wished she had pliers. Then she could sever a finger or two. Or all of them, depending if they spoke or not. As such, the woman simply watched for now, and waited for the spell to wear off. Which is rather quickly did.

As expected, the assassin screeched as the collective pain the two had caused flooded his senses. Mathieu knelt down beside him, "Speak. Tell us what we want to hear."

In spite of the pain wracking his body, the assassin looked up at him and glared. "Do what you want! But I will not speak... Never!"

Mathieu chuckled, "Good. We'll make you crawl along to your Dread Father and his whore of a bride, and pull you away when you're almost there!... Shealyne, what kind of tools might you have on you?"

"Unfortunately, none, dear. Well, that just means you and I will have to make due with what we have." The woman mock pouted, lower lip jutting out.

"But lucky for you...I am quite creative. I will take this." Shealyne purred, moving to take the blade away from the assassin, which she briefly inspected. Her other hand moved to push the assassin's hand against the ground. Which she promptly shot an ice spike through the palm, the ice shard piercing through the flesh and into the dirt.

The Sauveterre then began to hum quietly, flame spouting from her palm as she focused on heating the assassin's blade to an angry red.

The assassin shouted when the ice spike struck him. Smiling in delight, Mathieu went over to the Dark Sibling's legs, holding one up by the ankle. "How about something simple - who sent you? Names. Specifics. Don't be a wiseass."

"Tch. No."

CRa-ack! His ankle snapped sideways, broken.

"Do you have a note from your contractor? Speaker, Listener? Your orders?"

"Search me. You won't find what you wish to."

Shealyne, upon heating up the blade so that it looked akin to a freshly forged blade at a smithy's, simply pressed the heated metal against the assassin's face, searing the flesh, burnt skin wafting through the air. Huh. What a way to cook someone.

With her free hand, the woman decided to at least search the assassin's pocket for anything useful.

The assassin screamed despite his best efforts, writhing and and kicking his legs, until Mathieu pinned them down.

Shealyne would come across a note in one the assassin's pockets. Upon opening it, it would read "I gave you this contract because I know you're experienced, unlike your sister that fell prey to this man. Mathieu Bellamont is his name. He is quite the celebrity in Whiterun, so your best bet is to ask there, or lurk in the area... Oh. And he is "Dragonborn" as well. Just something fun to note."

Mathieu peered over at the note. "Liar. What does it say, Shealyne?"

"Hmmph. They know you are a Dragonborn and have been scouting Whiterun. Apparently this man is experienced. Pfff!" The woman murmured, holding out the note for her partner to take.

Experienced her left clit.

"Eh. He nearly killed me... Nearly." Mathieu said, reading the note for himself. Hm. Nothing he already didn't know. Pulling out his dagger, the breton now clasped the assassin's free hand and pinned his wrist down. "Where is your sanctuary?"

Silence. Then a yell as Mathieu chopped a finger off with the cold blade. "Where is it?" Another hack and shout, a finger severed. "Tell. Me. Where." He emphasized each word, but the assassin didn't speak, so off went another digit, and that seemed to be the final strike to lose his tongue,

"FALKREATH!"

Bellamont smirked. "And? What is the phrase?" While the assassin was too pained to be surprised, he had managed a firm response between groans and, even, tears - "You will never get to us! You will never get what you want! The Brotherhood is strong. They will strike you down if I told you, but even then, I would never betray the Brotherhood! I will never betray the Listener!" It seemed to be his final plea, but Mathieu was not eager to end it quickly. He peered at Shealyne, smiling, willing her to do what she wished.

Shealyne looked at Mathieu, and smiled. Once more, she heated the assassin's blade, pupil narrowing as her smile slowly became twisted and gnarled, "You will wish you have answered..."

She heated the blade until, like before, it appeared to be a newly forged blade. A Restoration spell formed within her free hand. In a sudden, downward strike, she plundged the blade up to the hilt of the assassin's stomach. Her Restoration spell was then unleashed in a constant stream. The spell was clearly powerful, and healed the man's stab wound almost as fast as the actual damage was made.

The Sauveterre raked her blade downward, gutting the man akin to an animal. Though the deep wounds of the gutting were fully sealed and healed in the blade's wake, as if it were never a wound.

The woman resumed to smile, fangs gleaming, "Phrase?"

Mathieu laughed at the damage Shealyne was causing the assassin. The blood, the screams, yet the amount of resilience the tortured exhibited - it was almost reminding him of Lucien Lachance, at Applewatch. And thus he was enjoying it very much.

"SILENCE! SIIILLENCE!" Was the dark sibling's response as he thrashed, only causing himself more pain against Shealyne's blade.

Upon recieving the phrase, Shealyne ceased her movements of the blade, save for actually pulling it out, "Mmmmm. Good boy." The woman purred, smiling as she briefly looked at Mathieu.

This was fun! And somewhat sexually arousing. Mainly when her Brother broke the man's ankle. That twist. That force. That power. He certainly knew what to do to inflict pain.

Ugh.

"Would you say our business is concluded?" The Sauveterre asked her companion.

"Certainly." Mathieu said. The assassin looked at them - though his gaze was slowly drifting due to his loss of blood - and choked out one word,

"Please..."

The breton smirked, "Of course, return to Sithis now, as you believe - drift off into the Void. It isn't as liberating as you think." In what seemed a blink, Mathieu had plunged his cold blade into the assassins skull and thrust it out, blood splaying out at his movement.

Shealyne merely blinked as she watched the blood, before simply staring at the crimson liquid, "Hmmm. Poor man...I think I enjoy torture a lot more than I should..." The woman murmured.

"What do you mean?... Hm. If you enjoyed this, then I wish you'd have, been there at Applewatch with me... This man is barely as mutilated as Lachance had been..."

"I know. I saw the aftermath." Shealyne sighed slightly,"It is strange. I feel pity where I should not and feel nothing when I should, sometimes. Pity a vampire hunter. Pity a bandit. Pity a beast. Pity my mother. Pity our Brother. Pity a mass murderig lich. Do not pity a slain child. Do not pity an innocent torture victim pushed to suicide. Do not pity a whole slaughtered town..." The woman pressed her lips together, "Sithis has made this Daughter possess cold hands but a soft heart..."

"Sithis has done things to us both..." And then Mathieu fell silent as he rummaged the assassins pockets for anything more, before going to dispose of the corpse. He couldn't think of something enlightening to finish his comment. He wasn't sure how to fix it fully himself... The things Sithis had gifted them both.

Shealyne was still in thought, "I assume you feel the same way, too, yes? Or something similar?" She hoped so. It would at least bring some comfort as to why she was so whishy washy on morality. Then it would not just be her. But it probably was.

"I think it is because I can see myself in some people. Or, at least, I see where they are, and I can understand. Nol is a lich. He is not good. He kills and tortures. Sometimes I help him, just because I can. Sometimes because I feel it is right. But that does not make what we do-what I do-okay. He wants godhood, and that is fine by me. I do not care. But sometimes we toy with the lives of people as if they are nothing. But sometimes, we save them, too. Help people. Not out of good will, but out of practical reasons. Or just because we happen to be at the right place at the right time to stop a bandit attack. Or a dragon attack. Or an undead raid." The woman frowned slightly as she thought.

"There was a Khajiit. She slew Nol before, the first time. She just happened to get in our way. Wrong place, wrong time. We tortured her. Ripped her teeth out, cut her tail off, slashed, stabbed, broke bones. At first, I did not feel anything. I did not care. But as time went on, I felt sick. And I wondered what kind of monster I had become. There was a sense of darkness. Like I had sold my soul and lost by humanity." Shealyne went quiet, pausing. She looked to the ground. To her fallen Brother. But he was not the same as the Khajiit.

"I was supposed to cut her fingers off so she could not try to harm herself. I only cut her finger tips off. She pleaded and cried. I was trying to offer mercy, even if it was small. We later found her dead. She had cut her own throat with her broken fingers in desperation to have an afterlife. Nol was furious, and he blamed me. When I saw him, quite the time later...he smiled. Grinned. But it was predatory. Evil. He said 'Only monsters help other monsters torture the innocent.' Still, there is a reason I help him, even if it means damning myself." Ugh. Fuck. Fuckin' stupid torture making her yap.

"He is good, deep down. At least, a part of him is. There is a good personality, but it is beaten down by all the others. He wrote to the Khajiit's husband, saying he was sorry for causing her death. I feel pity for the good one. But also the bad ones. I think I can relate, but I am unsure. I had very few people to help me in my darkest times. It is not fair if I damn this good part of Nol. But I do not know how to help him. Not truly. Even if I try, I just end up damning myself. Sometimes I wonder if I can even be called a human anymore. Or even have humanity. That is why I think I am so strange. Morally. I am sorry. I have spoken enough." Shealyne sighed, getting to her feet.

They had somewhere to do, damn it. Not listen to her blab her tongue off.

Mathieu didn't know what to say. At least, not for a long time. It felt like hours. He seemed in a daze, comprehending, considering what she's told him, trying to relate. He could. More than he could ever explain properly. In this moment there lingered conflict - a duality - where there was joy and satisfaction at seeing the blood on his hands yet anger and sorrow at painting them so, gnawing urge to go further bringing similar struggle. It was oh so confusing, and painful. And Mathieu was annoyed that he could barely begin describing it to Shealyne just as she did.

"I... I..." He just couldn't, damn it! "I... I understand completely. I know how you feel. I've felt it for so long... My entire life. Mostly."

And suddenly he got up, not outwardly sullen anymore, as he hauled the assassin up in his arms and decided for a place to hide the body. He didn't want to brood today any more than he has. Also not wanting Shealyne to brood with him. They had places to be, after all.

Shealyne did not say anything for a long him, as if comprehending his short response. She was happy, but a bit sad. This strange conflicting was like a hell. She was at least happy he understood. Or at least pretended to.

"I...thank you, Mathieu. For understanding." Geez. Shealyne was surprised Runa was not the most surley baby ever considering how much her parents just sulked and brooded.

Mathieu decided to dispose of the assassins corpse far off from the road into the hills, dropping the body on a dip in the plains where none would immediately notice it. This wasn't the most viable region to hide a body. At least the wolves might have at it. Retrieving his war axe still lodged in the man's knee, Bellamont returned to Shealyne. "... Hah! It had not been a month alive yet, when they sent their first Child after me..."

"Hmm. The Night Mother must hold a grudge." The woman assumed, rubbing her eye. She decided to keep the assassin's blade. Dawnfang was good to have, for it was reliable, and deadly, but Shealyne still prefered daggers. She felt less awkward. That, and Dawnfang was quite heavy for a single handed blade. At least to her.

Mathieu smirked. "Apparently she does. At least this time the encounter held something, substantial. Falkreath, huh? Silence?" The breton was exhilarated; even if the brotherhood still stood strong and wide-spread, picking off one sanctuary one member at a time was satisfaction enough. "As much as I, desire it, we'll wait to attack them for now. I haven't wiped out a sanctuary in a long while... But it is difficult."

"Yes, well...at least it is something." Shealyne spoke. She didn't look forward to killing her Brothers and Sisters. But then again, the ones she knew as her Dark Siblings were killed years ago. She hoped Runa would not be there...

The woman began to walk on in the way they were headed. She was kind of glad Mathieu seemed to forget his question prior to the attack. Not that she minded answering, for she found the answer funny. At least to her. Though it was not funny at the time, now she did find it as something. She never understood why vampires and lycans disliked each other. Now she assumed it was just because they took turns having rape wars.

"Your friend, she is pretty, no?" Shealyne asked, "You must have many companions."

Mathieu joined Shealyne's side as they returned to their travel. "I have a few... And," He knitted his brows, "Pretty? - Erm, yes, I suppose she is."

"Ah. I see." Was the woman's only response. Figured she was pretty. Though it was not hard for someone to be prettier than Shealyne. At least, that was what the woman thought. She never bothered to look at herself after her eye wound. It felt bad, so she guessed it looked worse. Even when bathing she did everything she could to avoid looking at her reflection. Even if it meant spritzing around and flailing her arms to ripple the water's surface like a bumbling toddler, "Does she wear the make up?"

Mathieu hadn't really payed attention to that. Why would he? Maybe. Maybe, if a woman looked like a damn clown because she decided to wear excessive make up. Then certainly. But he only took that rarely into consideration.

"No... I don't believe so. But she has, face paint. Just a little. And, she has a missing eye... Just like you." The breton glanced at Shealyne, watching her expression. He didn't know if that would strike a nerve with the woman, or sadden her somehow.

The woman furrowed her brow, "Oh?" Face paint? Was she a damn jester?

Hmmmm. But Shealyne never knew another person to have a missing eye before. Ruined, or blind eyes, yes, but never missing eyes. Maybe they could be missing eye buddies? And stuff.

The Breton seemed to somewhat relax at that, as if pleased, "I am sorry. I was just worried and jumping to conclussions as to whether you fancied her or not. I should be more mature at nigh two centuries old. Though, it is nice to hear. That I am not alone, in that regard."

Maybe they could swap eye losing stories? That sounded fun!

"... Does it matter to you if I do?" Questioned Mathieu. He took a gander to his surroundings; it didn't seem a far trek from the Restoration Chapter to the Reach, as they were now taking a left down the fork in the road that led into the region.

Oh. She guessed by his wording that he did indeed fancy this woman. Shealyne pressed her lips together, "I do not want my emotions to hinder any personal romantic choice you may choose, if you do."

Which may as well have been a big, winded 'yes'. But Shealyne didn't think it would be fair if Mathieu was influenced out of his potential happiness with another person just because it upset her.

Bellamont simply nodded at her words, shifting his focus on the environment, peering out for any further signs of trouble - he assumed Eola would be lurking farther in, near the city itself... Hm. He wondered if he had upset her. Made her... Jealous? After two centuries? Although... It was only a slight attraction he garnered for Eola. A small idea he's been entertaining. She was the only one he had been able to confide in, after all... Though now, the allure seems insignificant ever since his reunion with Shealyne. He didn't think about it quite as much.

"I just...I thought...you and I..." Shealyne's mind was reeling. Partially because of the area they were in, and partially because she was caught up in the idea of a man having an attraction to another woman. It did not surprise her, but both things certainly scared her. Unfortunately for Mathieu, that would meant Shealyne would yammer away. Generally, the woman liked talking, because she did not talk very much. But this type of garble was like a sudden slurge of verbal diarrhea. It happened whenever the woman thought and spoke at the same time, "I am not good. At the. The relationship things. The...they are scary. Because it may hurt. Physically. The sex. But emotionally, too. Most men are scary. Even the nice ones. But you are not scary. You help me feel safe, and I, I am not the best, the best lover. But, so...I was only hoping...but that is okay. Because I love you, and I want you to be happy. Even if that means having you be with not me."

The woman looked around the location, eye white, senses sharp, "I do not have good luck. With men. These passed few months, for some reason every one I met wanted me to be their cock sock when I have known them not even a day. Or to join their harem. No. No, I said no. So I left. The attention stopped. After the accident. But that is okay, because most men leave me alone now."

Shealyne cleared her throat. Fuck that damn dog person. And fuck her feelings and nerves and thoughts and mind. If she had known she would be such a pussy, she would have, well, not gone this way. Which was strange. Perhaps it was from the confussion and worry her Brother was giving her? Emotions were not fun...

"The...but-but it is funny. What happened, near here. It is funny, no? You know, vampires and lycans? It is funny. But not at the time. It was not funny at the time. But now it is! And the lycan was a dog-person! A dog-fox-person!" The Sauveterre laughed, as if it were a joke, "See? Funny, no?"

"But...but it is okay. It was not that bad. I could not see much except its teeth and tongue. And it only felt like being fucked with a knife. See? It is okay. I would rather it be me than some other poor girl. He could have targeted someone else. That would have been bad. Very. Bad."

And then the Sauveterre went silent, as is the sudden slurge of verbal diarrhea was suddenly shut off. Mostly, "You know, Mathieu, for every bad thing, there is a good thing. You cannot let yourself get ruined unless you want to be ruined. I choose to not remain ruined."

It was odd. Through that garbled mess of words, the woman simply relaxed, and ceased her looking and fretting. Huh. Maybe she should express herself more? She never told anyone about the rape and strange men. Ever. Maybe pretending it never happened was a bad idea after all?

Mathieu spun toward Shealyne, colored across his face a look of both unease and rage, "So you were, you were - DEFILED again? By some sick, slobbering mutt no less!? That is NOT funny, Shealyne, and it does not make it any less vile because it happened to you!" He then scanned the area with cold, narrowed eyes, as if he expected the lycan to appear before them any moment. "...How depraved one must be..."

After some time the breton sighed. Likely, the lycan wasn't around here. Maybe it was dead. But he liked the thought of himself serving justice to the beast.

"You know, Shealyne... I still, love you. I still care... As I always have. But I am still irate that you LIED to me our whole relationship, whether you wanted to tell me, or not... But I am not happy with another. Not yet... We can start together, anew. You wish it, it seems. I wish it. It is quite possible."

... Huh. Usually he wouldn't be so fluid, so straightforward, with something like this. But it all seemed right, somehow.

"I know, but...it just helps me cope, is all. It is better than being angry or sad." The woman sighed, unsure what to think.

Though she smiled, "Thank you. Thank you for loving me. Still loving me. After everything, and what I have told you. I do not care what you do now, or what you have become-Septim-Dragonborn or no. I accept you, and, well, I still do love you. Even if you sometimes scare me when you get angry. That is what makes you, well, you." Shealyne resumed to smile.

Huh. Maybe she should express herself more often? Good things seemed to happen then.

Mathieu returned the smile, though it faltered quickly. "We might not rekindle it so soon... It might not be easy... But we could, try, at least..." Though he was still worried. Worried that Shealyne still keeps things from him. But, at least there seemed to be an even ground between them now.

Shealyne smiled slightly, "To try is all I ask for." She was happy. At least things were evened out, and it was not such a mystery on how he felt anymore. It was a good feeling

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Next chapter will introduce Eola! Bellamont's bitch baby with Shea will eventually be introduced.**


	4. Toddler Terror

**Hello! Sorry for the delay. I lost track of the days. All characters belong to their rightful owners.**

**The mental illness shown in this chapter is DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder), which is majorly found in childhood sexual abuse victims. Women are more likely to suffer from DID than men.**

* * *

He figured searching for Eola would take a day, at least. So long at the forsworn or other creatures would not cause too much harm. She was probably residing in Reachcliff Cave right now... But then his hopes started to rise when he saw two bodies on the road. Forsworn. Though one could not be sure if the completely immolated one was, the other one sported the normal attire bones and hides, as well as... Bite marks? Along her body. And when he looked closely, her companion was fed on, too. Mathieu smirked. She preferred well-roasted for this one apparently. Hah!

As they came upon the bodies, Shealyne scrunched her nose slightly. Bleh. She did, however, pull a bottle of alcohol out of her satchel, popped off the cork, and chugged.

Mathieu tried to find any more signs. Bodies, footprints - and was unsuccessful. However, these bodies were fresh, which meant she was near.

A laugh. Mathieu was proven true when he saw a woman sitting at the base of a jutting rock, materializing out of thin air. She appeared to be breton, like them. Shoulder-length blonde hair, three strips of face paint across the left side of her face and a milky white eye. "Ah, Mathieu, I didn't expect you. More so another one of them." She spoke in a smooth, almost sultry voice. When she gestured to the Forsworn, she also looked at Shealyne. "And who's this?"

The Sauveterre looked at the mortal. She blinked, tone stoic and hard, yet crisp. Like it naturally was, "The Mad God." Was all the red head replied with. Her tone was not good with jokes. Even if it was not meant as such, it still made her response seem like a failed jest.

The woman tilted her head at Shealyne, and Mathieu furrowed a brow. "Mad God? How powerful you must be." It was unsure whether or not she was being sarcastic. But it sounded so. "Shealyne? This is Eola." Mathieu introduced.

The Breton merely blinked in response, arms lax at her side, "How quaint."

What a pleasant woman, Eola thought. She stepped down from the rock, continuing to gaze at Shealyne until she approached Bellamont. "Keeping busy? Everyone's been starting to miss your company."

"It's, the usual. Of course. I met with Shealyne a day ago. She's an old, old friend... So we've been traveling together. Are you occupied? ..We.. wished to have you along with us." More so 'I' than 'we'. Eola glanced at the vampire again, appearing to inspect her with a strange smile, before she said,

"No. Not occupied now. I've been... Craving some adventure. The Forsworn can only be so fun to fool around with."

Shealyne simply chose to ignore the woman. Or pretend she did not notice the queer staring. Bitch.

Ah, but no. She was Mathieu's friend. So Shealyne needed to try and be friendly, if for his sake.

"You should try hunting vampires. Their ash looks like fallen snow." The Sauveterre commented. Though she figured the new woman knew what she was. She said 'one of them', after all. The Breton took it that this Eola did not like vampires. Nor did Shealyne.

"Hmm. I've faced only a few vampires. Tricky, oh so tricky, but their skills are something to be admired. Magics, agility... I've bothered not on hunting them, though." Eola said. Mathieu was letting the two talk, peering up at the evening sky. Had the day gone by that fast? They would have to camp soon, though with forsworn nearby, they needed to be mindful of where.

"Fah! These vampires have a weaker dominant strain than Cyrodiil's, from what I can tell. They are almost human. Almost. The...nox strain. Noxaphilia? Nox-something. That is the most dangerous strain I have seen." Shealyne spoke. She should know. For some reason everyone in her fucking family had that strain. Well, almost everyone. And she wasn't even sure how they got it. Her family was normal-mortal-and then-poof! Vampirism galore! At least Shealyne could get some solice in the fact that her bitch mother was stuck looking like a badly aged seventy year old for all eternity.

"Oh? Never heard of those, never seen them in action... But you seem to be knowledgeable. Of course, I'd expect you would." Eola gave the other woman a plain dead stare.

However, Mathieu's interest was piqued. "Noxaphilia? By what means, is it dangerous?" He had a light discussion with his fellow Dawnguard one day of what breeds of vampire there were, what features to be aware of, but he couldn't remember if he was aware of that particular strain. And if that is one of the most dangerous? He just needed to know.

"Do not quote me on the strain name, Mathieu. I just know it has nox in it." Shealyne spoke. Fuck, she could barely remember her own strain.

The Sauveterre proceeded to ignore Eola. For the most part. Save for a smile that displayed her large canines, tongue teasingly flicking one of the fang's tips. If this moody bitch knew, then there was no reason to hide. Not that the Sauveterre ever bothered to hide her disease. She was fairly blunt about it.

Shealyne then turned her attention to Mathieu, "It is a second era strain. Very rare. But it is still an active strain. One does not need to be bitten to get infected. From what I know-or rather-from what I have heard-it is like a ritual where one bathes in blood. As if an awakening, of sorts. The vampires are weak during the day, almost like humans, no? Save for the fact that sunlight does not harm them. But during the night, they are demons. Not literally, but they become immune to pain no matter how severe, and they can heal and recover from their wounds in seconds. Perhaps minutes, even. They are strong. Very strong. Even a vampire that has no skill in combat can tear apart a seasoned warrior."

The woman spoke. She should know. Her mother was strong. Physically strong. And she could not fight her way out of a paper bag.

Mathieu nodded, digesting the information. "Ah. I see. Very volatile, best to avoid at night... If one even could..." Again he looked at the sky, orange-red hue slowly fading to blue, sun sinking beyond the mountains. "We'll need to camp for the night. Soon."

"That is fine." Shealyne spoke. Hmmmm. She wanted that Forsworn outfit. She should have taken one when she had the chance with those corpses, "I can take watch, Mathieu. You can sleep this time."

Hmmm. Maybe the reason Mathieu seemed to avoid sleep was because sleeping reminded him of the Void? Poor man. She would have to ask him sometimes.

"Pfft. I'll try." Mathieu said. Glancing to Eola, he asked, "Anywhere around here... Secluded? You'd know best." Eola then motioned for him and Shealyne to follow, leading them far off the main road, through a patch of uneven land and groups of rocks, into a dip where a small cavern burrowed into the mountainside. When they arrived Mathieu immediately went off to gather whatever firewood he might find.

Shealyne merely frowned as she watched Mathieu walk off. That was not good. Mortals needed to sleep. And she was almost certain the male had not slept in days. Hmmmm. Maybe she could help him? To sleep? But Shealyne was unsure how to do that. Oh! Perhaps she could sing a lullaby, and he would fall asleep? It worked for Runa. Mostly.

The woman, despite being lost in her thoughts, decided to pull herself out in order to ask Eola a question, "Your eye-were you born with it as such?" While to Shealyne, it was a question out of curiousity, one could certainly see it as rude.

Eola, despite the supposed discourtesy of the question, answered placidly, "No. It's a battle wound, nothing exciting. Sadly."

As Mathieu collected twigs and branches and very rarely a good, thick piece of wood, he wondered if he should have informed Shealyne more about Eola before they met, to avoid tension; that she was dubious. Enigmatic. How her leveled tone was hard to discern emotions from, for the most part. One might misinterpret her often. Then again, sometimes Mathieu did not understand how she felt or thought. Yet she was willing for him to share his secrets with her.

"Ah. I see. A shame." Though it was unsure exactly what the woman meant.

"And yours? Was it some injury you cauterized, or was it simply burnt up?" Eola questioned. By this time Mathieu had returned, not wanting to stray too far, and began setting up a small fire. It was done quick. Eola noticed - and with a flick of her wrist she sent a wisp of fire flying into it, setting it alight.

Shealyne shrugged, "Just a mishap. A lich was terrorizing Whiterun hold. A crack shot lich hunting party was formed. Its lair was in the ruins of Helgen. Or at least, its army of vampiric thralls were. My eye was stabbed out by an ally by accident. Or, rather, the blade popped it out. It was hanging by the nerve, yes? So it was cut. And then cauterized with a hot fire poker."

Though the Sauveterre left out the part that it was Aiden that accidentally caused the damage.

"Ouch. Quite the 'mishap', wasn't it?" Eola said. She strolled over to Mathieu and sat by the fire. Mathieu looked up from his satchel that he fished out food from, "That lich. It isn't that same 'Nol' man you spoke of, is it?"

Shealyne nodded, "Yes. The same." The woman spoke, approaching the fire to warm herself. The Breton figured she was a crappy vampire. Or at least an ironic one. She hated the cold. She liked warmth. Heartbeats were scary and gross. Mortal blood was gross.

Eola exchanged glances with Mathieu once he had finished rummaging through his bag, and it seemed as if a silent conversation was passed between them. Eola smirked. She glanced at the contents of the bag, looked briefly at Shealyne, then back to him. Mathieu blinked. For a slim second, worry flashed in his face.

"Shealyne... Mad God? I don't believe Mathieu here has ever told me of you. He said you were old friends? How did you first come across each other?" The other woman said.

"I am not surprised. There is not much to be spoken of me." The woman replied, tone akin to a low drawl, smooth and slow. Yet a hint of bitch, "But, if you must know, I was a captive, once, in a filthy mold infested basement. Mathieu rescued me."

The Breton shrugged. It was a simple response. Hmmmm. She wondered what those two were talking about? With their eyes? Probably nothing good.

"Yes... That disgusting place," Mathieu grimaced, "And its depraved residents... They deserved to be slaughtered. I hope the house is rubble now."

No witty remark. No broaching further. Eola saw how mad Mathieu looked as he replayed the memory in his head. She nodded, and asked something else, "How long have you known each other, then? After that?"

"Ohh...quite a few years. I do not keep track of time, unfortunately." Shealyne spoke. Hmmm. At least they could lie together. Well, a half lie. But it was better than a full lie.

Mathieu eyed the fire. He really should have forewarned Shealyne now; it would have made talk easier. Eola knew his place in and his ploy against the Brotherhood. They didn't have to dance around the fact. But he forgot! Forgot to tell her that! Oh well. It would be known eventually.

Eola nodded. "Well, Shealyne, a friend of Mathieu is a friend of mine. And I tend to like getting to know them. Figure out if they have similar... Tastes. Hm?"

"Unfortunately, I am not good at the friends thing. They all tend to die." The Sauveterre shrugged her shoulders.

The woman then turned her head away from the fire, pupil illuminating in the reflection of the flame. She simply remained staring into the darkness.

"Such a downer," Eola shook her head, scooting over to Shealyne's side. "I've had countless friends die as well. Or betray me. That is another way for a friend to die. It hurts... But I find new companions. It's no good having none to... Confide in, to tell your ugly, dark secrets too. It hurts more to lock it in."

"I'd be, apprehensive of companionship, if they all died, too." Mathieu reasoned.

"But a part of yourself feels alone then, doesn't it? You wandered the Hall of the Dead that day, longing for company, an ear that understands, hm?" Eola gave him a knowing smile and he went back to staring at flames.

Shealyne just shrugged, "Some secrets are best kept hidden. The truth can hurt far more than the lies."

"But if the truth hurts, then perhaps it is that person's fault for not listening, not taking time to understand why the truth is as it is? No matter how vile?" Eola said.

Shealyne blinked, listening to the woman's words, "That is true." The Breton nodded. Her husband did not attempt to listen. He just got angry and chewed her head off.

There was a long, silent moment between the three bretons, broken slightly by the sounds of crackling flame and sizzling of meat cooking. Eola exchanged one more glance with Mathieu before digging through a small pack strapped to her hip. "So. Shealyne. Have you fed? It's not purely blood, but I find it a delectable substitute, myself..." She procured a hunk of raw meat, seemingly fresh with blood dripping over it. Offered it to the vampire. Mathieu saw - tensed up - turned his head away into the night. By the Nine... He didn't think she'd bring this about so soon. Was she so straightforward because Shealyne was a vampire? That human flesh and blood was a typical meal to vampires?

Shealyne turned herself to the scent of the blood. Her nostrils flared. Was that...

The woman looked at the hunk of flesh for quite a while, before turning her gaze to Mathieu. He was not looking. So they ate the flesh of others?

Part of Shealyne could care less. The other part was disgusted that her Brother would partake in such an act, almost betrayed or offended that he would simply feed the same way as that fat puss gutted man and his deformed father would.

Though rather than fully expressing herself, the Sauveterre just raised a hand, and lightly shooed the offer away, "No thank you. I stopped feeding on mortals years ago."

Mathieu met Shealyne's eye for a moment, then returned to his staring with a small look of guilt. She fully knew. He did not need to speak to prove it true. She was probably being reminded right now of that sick family back at the decayed farmstead.

Eola, surprisingly, accepted that, pulling back her arm. "Oh? That's curious. What do you feed on, then?" She asked.

"Animals." Was the woman's simple answer, "But I try not to kill them. It is cruel."

Eola snickered, though it was out of good humor. "But aren't animals, by all means, mortals? Live and die in a natural lifespan?... Likewise, humans can be considered animals."

The Sauveterre shrugged her shoulders, "By all means, humans are considered and are often referred to as cattle by vampires. Lucky for you, I prefer the cattle-cattle. They go 'mooo' and some of the friendlier ones try to nuzzle me."

Eola chuckled just a little harder. Mathieu was too busy trying to gnaw a bite off a cooked but tough-ass piece of meat.

Hmm. Maybe Shealyne should try asking a question? She was not good at holding conversations. Or making friends, for that matter, "Enlighten me, yes? How did you meet Mathieu?"

Probably through cannibal orgies.

Well, with the truth known, Eola found no need to fabricate. "At the Hall of the Dead, in Markarth."

"I was sent to investigate, disturbances, there..." Mathieu commented.

"And I introduced myself. We then made a bargain, that if he helped cleared my former residence of draugr, I would leave the Hall be. Then we were journeying together."

"And you could not just eat the zombies alive? Give them a taste of their own medicine?" Shealyne questioned, "I would have."

But then again, the woman probably had the actual jaw strength to do that, whilst Eola did not.

Eola smiled at the remark, although she said, "I tried draugr once. They taste foul. Though I did give a vampire a taste of what it's like to be the victim. Somewhat. But... No offense to you, of course."

Mathieu continued fighting with the strip of meat. Damn, it was like chewing leather. But even so, he listened in on Eola and Shealyne. Huh. At least Eola omitted him from the act. He figured that woudn't have bode well with Shealyne. Not at all.

Shealyne scrunched her nose slightly, "I assume that tasted just as foul as the zombie." Vampires tended to not smell as good, either. They kind of smelled like something was dead. Probably because they were just sentient walking corpses, "I only bit a man's cock off, once. It was not a smart idea."

But the man pissed her off. So off went his little worm.

Shealyne then blinked, turning to the still struggling man, "Do you require assistance?"

Mathieu looked up, "No. It's fine." Done trying, the man simply discarded the meat in place of one of the others he cooked - which was actually edible, thank the Nine. He then studied the fire, contemplating dousing it now.

"Oh. It did. Though I hadn't tried vampire before, so it was a little sampling. I should have expected that much." The other woman furrowed her brows, "...Really, though? Huh. Mathieu, I think you should be cautious..." She jested.

Mathieu scoffed.

"I do not know which is worse: you speaking of sampling vampires, or a companion I had that would not cease his tongue about tasting me..." The Sauveterre murmured. Not that it bothered her. She then realized oral fetishes seemed to be quite common in her traveling companions. At least when it came to eating things.

"Fah! He has nothing to worry about. I only blow the men I like. And get a red shower from the ones I do not like." And thinking of eating, Shealyne was hungry.

"Pffft." Mathieu rolled his eyes. But he did not remark anything, getting up to put out the small campfire. "So you're to take first shift, Shealyne?"

The woman nodded, "Yes. I can take watch the whole night. I do not mind."

She could see in the dark, and see any nearby life forces. That, and vampires didn't need sleep. Well, Shealyne loved to sleep. Minus the odd dreams and nightmares she would get. But she had heard and seen vampires who apparently never slept. So, she assumed vampires did not need to sleep to function. At least as much as mortals.

Mathieu seemed unsure, though he knew Shealyne would be more than capable. Perhaps somebody already caught them? Saw their fire? Was their an ambush being planned? And the creatures too. Trolls, sabre cats, bears and wolves. Sabre cats and wolves especially would pounce before you had time to react to the signs... And there were the ever silent assassins and the groups of vampires that found ways to track him down, so they only way to keep watch of them was to keep your eyes open. Ears pricked up. Conscious. Always conscious...

As Mathieu went to lay down and rest, he found himself fearing this night... Oh, he didn't want to see the Void... He didn't want to shut his eyes...

Shealyne slowly got up from her seat, and moved to carefully plop herself next to Mathieu. Mainly because she wanted to make sure he would actually fall asleep. The woman said nothing, nor did she move. She simply kept alert, head swiveling every once in a while.

This would be a long night, hmm?

"Oh. She's watching me. Of course." Thought Mathieu. He attempted to feign sleep, closing his eyes, rolling over so that his back faced Shealyne, keeping alert with just his ears. Though at times he felt he was shutting his eyes for too long, and peeled them open just a bit to assure himself that yes, there were shapes around him, though obfuscated by the night, and yes, he did still have a body.

Shealyne merely blinked, eye briefly watching as Mathieu turned his back to her. Hmmmm. She figured it was a nice try. For a man freigning sleep. It was a juvenile tractic her children used to do. Pretend they were asleep. She guessed Mathieu was doing the same. Which meant he was not relaxing.

Slowly, Shealyne's hand swelled with mana. It was a calming spell. Maybe that would help her Brother?

The woman then went to cast the spell upon the man.

Mathieu felt a strange sensation wash over him. He found his anxious thoughts suddenly cleared from his mind. "What, in?..." He started, briefly forgetting who was beside him before mumbling, "Oh... You didn't need to cast a, spell, Shealyne..."

"Shhhhh. Just rest. I will be here." The Sauveterre whispered softly, voice a gentle, almost motherly coo. She did not want to speak too loudly, nor did she want to risk disturbing Eola. A hand simply moved to stroke his hair in a tender and slow pattern, as if a parent attempting to comfort and calm a child.

Despite her calm stroking, Shealyne resumed to swivel her head around every once in a while, watching, and listening. And smelling.

Shealyne's soothing, her gentle touch and coos, was a surprise at first to Mathieu. He hadn't felt this type of touch, tone of voice, since mother. It was nice. Usually there was no physical presence to console him, he simply had to fabricate it in his mind. He slowly fell into a trance at the vampire's comforting, closing his eyes, nigh falling asleep when he began imagining all the times this happened as a child. Which easily led into imagining mother. Mother, mother...

"...Mother..." Murmured the man. He rolled over to face Shealyne again, cuddling up to the woman and pressing his face into her leg.

Shealyne was a bit startled as her Brother's cuddling at first, though calmed. She resumed to stroke his hair, and did not bother to move. She did not want to disturb Mathieu.

Maybe she would have to do this more often, or every once in a while? Mathieu seemed to like the simple maternal affection, and if it made him sleep better, then that was fine by Shealyne.

She just hoped he would not start viewing her more as a maternal figure than a romantic one. Shealyne would be quite disheartened at that. But if it happened, it happened.

Hmmm. But then again, Shealyne did hear of women refering to their male partners as their fathers...why? The woman was not sure. She just assumed it was a strange fantasy regarding incest.

Mathieu got closer to Shealyne in his trance, now crawling up to rest his head on her lap. "... Oh, mother... How nice, it is... You haven't, been talking, to me... For so long..."

Oh! Well, hot damn...Shealyne wasn't sure what to do. But Mathieu seemed happy. She wanted the man to sleep, but here he was, trying to curl up on her like a little lap dog.

Shealyne resumed tenderly stroking his hair, debating if she should speak or not. She could pretend to be his mother, but the woman was unsure how she sounded like. But if she played her cards right, she could make her Brother go into la-la land a lot faster.

"Shhhhh. Sleep now, my little love. Mother is here. Mother is always here." The woman cooed, tone gentle and soft, yet sweet, as if honey.

Sleep! Sleep, damn you, Mathieu! She felt awkward!

Despite her inner termoil, Shealyne briefly looked around once more so as not to be fully distracted. Once finished, the Breton bent down, and gently caressed her lips against the man's brow in an attempt to further calm him and get him to sleep.

It usually worked with her children, anyway.

The voice didn't sound quite right. It was sweet, tender, but something was out of place... But it didn't matter. Mathieu still played into Shealyne's motherly act. And at the vampire's kiss, Mathieu gave an airy, childish giggle - which just sounded unnerving coming from the mouth of a man. He didn't know. He seemed to be in another world. "... I love you... Mother..." His voice was oddly pitched, lighter and higher in tone, at least as much as it could get to that. "Don't run away again... I want to help..."

... What? The? Fuck?

Oh...Sithis, help her!

The woman smiled slightly, "Mommy loves you, too, sweetie. Mother will not run away again. Never again. She promises. But, you can help Mommy, right, sweetie? You can help Mother by being a good little boy, and go to bed, hmmm? How does that sound, my little love?"

Oh, Sithis. She was probably making it worse! She just wanted Mathieu to sleep! And now Mathieu turned into a child!

"But Mommyyy..." He whined, "How can I sleep with the monsters here? There's monsters everywhere..."

"Do not worry, honey. Mother will keep the monsters away. No monster will hurt you so long as Mommy is here. She promises." Shealyne cooed, once more moving to tenderly kiss Mathieu's brow.

Ugh. She had no idea she'd be spending the night trying to make a man child go to bed...maybe she should hit him with another calming spell?

Mathieu yawned. "Alright, mommy... If you promise..." He twisted around, craning his neck and planting a small kiss on Shealyne's lips, eyes half-closed. Not that he could really see Shealyne in the darkness. "I'll sleep in dark just for you... Love you..." Finally when he shifted to lay across the vampire's legs, almost sitting on her lap, did he start nodding off.

Shealyne blinked, unsure what to think about the odd behavior and kiss. It clearly wasn't sexual, and was more of a simple kiss of a child giving to a mother...it was both sweet, but very unnerving at the same time. And the simple contact made her lips feel weird and tingly.

"...Love you, too, honey." The woman decided to end her act with that statement.

Ugh. At least he was starting to sleep. But on the down side, he was pretty much on top of her like a lap dog. So Shealyne couldn't move.

Her hand ceased stroking his hair, and simply moved to support his head. Now Shealyne could swivel her head and keep watch in peace.

Mathieu was slowly drifting to sleep. He was scared of the hazy feeling and the darkness that came with it, but with that statement ringing in his mind, he welcomed the void with a small smile.

Shealyne would remain where she was, unmoving, and taking watch to the best of her abilities, until the man simply woke up.

It would be the early hours of the morning before anything began to stir. Eola got up, taking her sweet time to awaken before approaching Shealyne and Mathieu. "So you managed to put him to sleep? I don't know how you did it. He'd just pretend it with me." He drawled, shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh, it was a bit like coaxing a child to go to bed." Shealyne replied with a slight shrug. She figured Mathieu would wake up soon. Her legs were cramping, her butt was sore, and her arm felt numb. She only hoped he would wake up as normal Mathieu and not man-child Mathieu.

"Did you sleep well?" The woman asked, looking at Eola.

"Oh, just fine. I'm astonished nothing attacked." Eola said. Mathieu was soon roused, assessing his current position with confusion before getting off of Shealyne. Did she pull him to her? All he remembered was her stroking his hair before waking up right now.

"Ah, good morning, Mathieu. You slept well, no?" The Sauveterre asked, struggling to get up due to her stiff limbs. But she slowly managed to get to her feet, bones popping.

"I... Suppose so?" Mathieu said. He stretched his limbs and wandered about the camp, planning their next course.

Shealyne frowned slightly. The woman slaundered over to her Brother, which was no easy feat, given her leg muscles were cramping. But upon doing so, the Breton lightly tapped Mathieu on the shoulder, "A brief word in private, yes?"

Mathieu turned to face Shealyne. "Of course."

Though he assumed ill from this 'brief word in private.' He expected her to scrutinize him for what she discovered last night. About the cannibalism. But he didn't entirely blame her, either... Mathieu gestured for Eola to stay, while he and Shealyne distanced themselves from the camp.

Upon arriving at a spot for privacy, Shealyne simply stopped and briefly stared at Mathieu, blinking, "Mathieu, are you...okay?"

Mathieu furrowed a brow. "... Yes? Why, do you ask?"

"Because you were acting...very strange last night. Quite disturbingly so. Do you recollect anything? After I used that calming spell on you?" Shealyne asked, her lips forming into a worried frown.

"I... Believe I remember you, combing your fingers through my hair? That's all." Mathieu's expression was twisting into bewilderment at Shealyne's words, trying to think of what he did. What did he do? Did he do something to her? No... He couldn't have.

Shealyne's brow furrowed in worry, lips pressing together into a thin line as a strange noise of concern hummed from her throat, "Mathieu, you...well, you changed after that. Not physically, but...you spoke exactly like a child. Your voice changed to even sound like one. You were referring to me as your mother. Sithis, you even kissed me as if a child kissing his mother. T'was very unnerving. A bit adorable, but largely disturbing."

"... Truly? That... That happened?... I... Don't remember that. Not at all. I, thought I fell asleep, soon after you cast that spell..." If Shealyne had wanted clarification on why he acted like a child, Mathieu apparently could not give that to her. He was just as perplexed, if not more.

"It is...just disturbing. Very." The Sauveterre murmured, "I am unsure as to what to think, seeing you act as such." Hearing that giggle from a man had to be the most unsettling thing Shealyne ever heard.

Mathieu shook his head. "I, apologize. I don't know what came over me. Why that happened..."

"Hmmm. It is fine. It is just a bit difficult seeing your lover-err, ex-lover? Potential lover?-never mind. It is just difficult seeing you act like a child and acting as if I am your mother." The Sauveterre spoke, "Wait. Your old diary. It had writing akin to a child, yes? Do you remember writing that passage?"

It would not prove difficult to unearth this memory if he indeed had it; extensive time surrounded by nothing else had caused him to dwell on his memories. And his mind was particular with the time of his diary entries. Even so, he could not recall this. "No. I do not." Said Mathieu. He bit his lip, considering. "Though... I do recollect. This has happened before - where I, lose conscience, and when I wake there is childish babble in my diary. It's occurred, four times?... At least. Those are just the instances written. If I had not somehow written, I may not even remember..."

This had always been unnerving to him as well. He didn't put together what causes it. He didn't think people would talk with him about it. And admittedly, the man was deathly scared at the thought of not controlling his own body. His own actions.

"Hmmm..." Shealyne paused in thought, "So, you have black outs?..."

Now that the woman thought of it...she had a very large black out with Nol, once, "...Hmmm. I had one, once. A black out. I remember I was traveling through the mountains, trying to get into Cyrodiil. But then, I fell, and slipped into a cave, no? The fall was deep, very deep, but I do not remember anything after. Then, the next thing I know, I woke up in an inn at Anvil. I do not know why I was there, or how I got there, or how long I laid in that bed or how I got out of that cave. It was very frustrating, trying to remember, but you cannot. Nol said I was a different person. Very annoying, very stupid, and very...uh, thinking it was the Third Era? And talking about marriage? And High Rock?" Shealyne knitted her brows together.

"The point is, I think, is that what if different parts of you are in your head? Like a former self? But still a part of you? Like you...you were a little boy. And you are still very upset about your mother? Maybe it is something like that?" Shealyne wasn't sure what she was getting at. She hoped she made sense. But she probably did not. She wasn't sure if she liked that idea, of a different part of her living in her head. That other her wasn't allowed to...do whatever it was she did and be dumb. And do things without Shealyne's knowing.

"Hm. Luckily, I don't believe I've ever traveled long distances without knowing... But, yes, that makes sense. It is a queer thought though. I... Haven't behaved like that since before she was, taken. To think I could act as I were then so easily - not to mention being unaware that you're doing it?" A suppressed chill ran up his spine. My. Who knows what terrible things could happen when you're blacked-out.

"Fah! I woke up in a bed naked with Nol shaking me awake. Not sure why I was naked or why he was there or why my head hurt, but at least he told me the details. I do not know if that was the only time. How can I know if I do not remember?" Shealyne questioned, "But, I do not think you are a threat, when you are...uh, being child-you. You seemed to be a sweet boy. But if danger were to happen, I do not know if you would be able to snap out of it. I half expected you to wake up and still be a child."

Mathieu started to settle in a little, sitting down on a low ledge. This was turning into more than a brief word. And he didn't mind it. "From my knowledge, I've never interacted with anyone, in that state..." He shrugged his shoulders, "Besides once. It was on a road near Whiterun. Perhaps the very road we traveled... And I was merely walking, observing the scenery, when I blacked out... I woke up still on that road... But, my diary now said I had met a man then. A, jester?... Cicero, I think was the name. He was escorting his dead mother to a crypt, and I helped him fix his wagon wheel. Apparently. It's unnerving. There was no signs of that jester on the road. I had not seen him at all in my conscious state... I'm, unsure, if he was really there, or if it was the 'childs' imagination..."

Mathieu tilted his head at Shealyne. "Have you heard that name? Cicero? Or merely just glimpsed a jester in your travels? I assume he'd be easy to spot, in this province..."

"I find it unsettling that a child would know how to fix a wagon wheel. Or thinking about a child attempting to fix one. No offense to you, of course." The woman paused, rubbing her nose in thought, "But...Connor did mention he saw a short man in a jester costume, around Whiterun, once. I think he said he spoke to the man briefly. He spoke in third person and just spoke strangely. And had a very high pitched voice that made my son regret speaking to him." The Sauveterre shrugged.

"Oh! But Connor did mention the man was near Whiterun's one farm, it began with an L. It may have been because his wagon was broke, like you had in your writing. Connie said he would have helped, but he has a height limit on who he will help and the man did not meet the required height. That is mean, no?" Shealyne questioned. Unless...was...was that the joke?

"But, perhaps we can ask around sometime? Find out?" The Breton suggested.

"Really?" Mathieu said. "Yes, from my diary..." To clarify himself, he pulled out his new diary from his satchel, flipping through few pages until he found the entry. "... The jester must have been short, and had a 'weird' voice..." Damn, child him needed writing lessons. Child him would likely never get those lessons. "And, apparently I myself didn't fix his wheel. I 'helpt him by makeing the man up the hill fix his wagon weel.' I suppose that was the man running the farm..."

Shealyne inched herself closer to peer at the diary better. She laughed heartedly, fangs on full display, "Sithis, you have the most gorgeous hand writing I know, but then it all goes out the window with child-you." The woman resumed to laugh.

Ahhh. It felt good to laugh, "Perhaps I can try and teach child-you to spell better, no?"

Mathieu chuckled. "Oh. I would let you... But I already taught myself when I was a child. An, actual child, I mean... I'd rather not be educated again." He was both unsettled and humored by the mental image of he, a full-grown man, acting like a little boy with a high-pitched voice and all being mentored in grammar by his lover. Former lover. Possible lover? Shealyne was right, their status together was confusing.

The woman laughed, "And child-you has surely remembered those lessons well." Shealyne smiled, going silent, before laughing again.

"Oh! I can only imagine how child-you made the man fix that wheel! The man probably thought you were delayed!" The Sauveterre attempted to stiffle her laughter, but she just found the thought funny.

She did, however, managed to control herself to the point of an occassional giggle, "Ah, I apologize. I should not laugh. But it feels good to laugh."

Mathieu put his head in his hands, though fighting to quell his own laughter. "By the Nine... I'd imagine he met Cicero first, as well... What an eventful day that man had. First some short, annoying jester, and then a man that behaved as if he was dropped on his head as a small child... I'd assumed he helped me out of pity."

"Pfff! I could only imagine the temper tantrum that would have happened if he said no. Ha-ha! Perhaps we should go visit the farmer, sometime? If only to apologize. And secretly find out what happened." The Sauveterre smiled, patting Mathieu upon his shoulder.

"Ah, you can make an ass out of me when I black out, no? Tell me what happened. Apparently I was confused about the function of an inn." Shealyne laughed once more, "It appears that we both act as if we were dropped on our heads as children."

It was funny. The laughing. It felt good to laugh. She found the situation funny, and ironic, and that made her laugh.

"Tch. How am I to explain to the farmer? 'I apologize, at times I black out and act like a little boy without even knowing?' He wouldn't take to that pleasantly." Bellamont was certainly still frightened by this situation, no doubt - yet humoring the subject made his anxiousness alleviate. If only temporarily.

"Bah, just say you were not in the right frame of mind. We can talk about it later, no? Poor Eola has been waiting for quite the time." Shealyne suggested, extending a feminine hand to help the man up from his seat.

She could whine about the cannibalism later.

Mathieu accepted the hand and pulled himself up from the ledge.

"Actually, I was just coming over to retrieve you two." Once more, it seemed Eola had materialized from thin air. She was standing a yard away. "And don't worry. I only caught the tail end of your conversation. Sounds like you two were enjoying yourselves." She smiled.

"Just making asses out of ourselves..." The Sauveterre murmured. And talking about wagon wheels. And their queer selves.

Damn illusion magic. That woman was probably eavesdropping the whole damn time. Pah! Shealyne could do the same thing she always did. The Sauveterre would have seen Eola is she was using her night vision. But having night vision during the day was hard on her eye and damn blinding. Even if everything was a shade of blue and sparkles.

The woman was so caught up by her own thoughts and she failed to let go of her Brother's hand. So she absentmindedly kept her grip. Until the pulsing of warmth in his veins made her realize, and thus she let go, "Oh. Apologies."

"None needed." Mathieu said. He then put his diary back in place of a map, unrolling it. Tracing a finger along the main road from the Reach to Solitude, or any invisible paths on the map he seemed to be aware of, he asked, "You're still willing to travel to Solitude, Shealyne?"

The woman nodded, "I am fine to go there, yes." Though not really. Her mother was probably still there. And after Solitude, she should probably head back to Whiterun to check on her boys...

"Good. Well, we'll likely go farther into the Reach, 'till we're nearing Markarth, and follow the river north and past the mountains. Or there could be a possibly shorter route straight through here to reach Dragon Bridge. Albeit more dangerous."

Eola piped up, "If we take the longer road, we could borrow some horses."

"Borrow? From the stables, you mean? I thought Banning, only took care of his dogs -"

"Not the stables. I spotted a Stormcloak camp the other day, near the mountainside. I say we steal their horses." The woman stated.

Mathieu smirked at that suggestion.

"Danger." Was the Sauveterre's simple reply. Fuck horses. They hurt her cunt when she sat on them. But that was because she was not used to riding on horses, "Short and swift, yes?"

Mathieu shrugged. "If you say so. Depending on if we come across anything, we'd likely make it to Dragon Bridge by nightfall." Rolling his map, checking to assure everything was on his person, they started north, towards rugged plains teeming with troubles.

"If I say so? That simple? No 'the majority rules'?" The woman questioned. Well, okay, then. That was easy.

"Tch. It does not much matter to me, what path we take." Mathieu said. "I'm sure we'll find a small forsworn settlement to slaughter, either way."

"Good. Then I can take one of their woman's clothes." Shealyne was quite pleased at that.

"Oh? Wishing for a change of fashion?" Eola asked, looking Shealyne over.

"I tire of the same cloth shirt and leather trousers. Though I assume it will be strange wearing something that is just a bra and panties." Or may as well be. The Forsworn tops just looked like bras. And Shealyne wasn't used to bras. Or walking around in something akin to panties. Eh. Apparently she had an attractive body. Ruccia mentioned she would kill to have her legs. Well, Shealyne would kill to have Ruccia's face, so she guessed it was even. The Breton guessed walking around in bra and panties wouldn't kill anyone.

"It's reasonable. I at times would wear one myself. I've padded through a few forsworn camps unnoticed with them on, funny little headdress and all, if I played the cards right. Managed to clear out most of one camp. Sent them all into a panic to find me..." As Eola reminisced, she laughed lightly, "Oh, it was delightful. A real feast for the eyes. You should try it, sometime."

"Feast for the eyes?" Shealyne echoed, brows furrowing in confusion.

Mathieu peered over his shoulder, "She means it was pleasing to watch..." 'That woman and her cannibal puns...' He thought to himself.

"Oh. The destruction? I thought she meant the people. To look at." Shealyne would have just stared at the men and tried to guess which was the tribe stud based on their sausage sizes.

Mathieu couldn't help but crack up a little.

"Hmph. It goes both ways, really. I presume." Eola said. "I had enough to eat for weeks after that."

Hmmm? Shealyne was a bit confused. Did she say something funny? She assumed she wasn't getting something and said something funny-foolish instead. Cannibals... "Then you would have gotten fat, no?" The woman questioned. If she ate a weeks' worth of food, she would have popped like a tick. Probably. Or just vomited a lot.

Eola smiled. "Pfft. Not exactly. You can store and preserve human just like any other food. Delivering it to Reachcliff was quite a task, though. I had to get a wagon. But I couldn't find a horse to pull it."

All this talk of cannibals got Shealyne excited! She went to open her mouth, to tell Mathieu that she encountered cannibals similar to the fat one and his father. To tell Mathieu that she killed fifteen of them singlehandedly. And with their own weapons, too! And that she could be strong and get passed the terror! She wasn't even scathed during the battle!

She was so excited! She wanted nothing more than to blabber away to her Dearest Brother about how she could brutally slaughter cannibals!

But as soon as the woman opened her mouth to speak, her jaw clamped shut. She could not say that. Talking about how ecstatic it felt to put down those walking abortions when her traveling companions were cannibals? Mathieu was a cannibal?

No. She could not do that. The Sauveterre just did not understand. He knew what she went through! How she felt! But if Mathieu had one cannibal friend, he damn well had to have others. And clearly he didn't care about how she felt on that matter.

Shealyne didn't want Mathieu to be like the others. She wasn't sure if there were good cannibals, but all the ones she met were bad. And that made her sad. She didn't want her Brother to remind her of them.

The woman was unsure what to say. Though upon hearing the word 'horse', she figured she could add something, "I knew an Orc that liked to eat horses...she would make horse soup."

Mathieu finally spoke up, after attentive time surveying their surroundings while they walked. "Wasn't that orc the one that ran the stables, outside the Imperial City? I actually recall coming across her." He smirked. Then narrowed his eyes. "She ate my damn horse."

The Sauveterre nodded, smiling, "Ha! Yes, that is the one! Was it a good horse? What did you do? I had a horse once. It was a bag of bones paint horse."

"It was. A fine white one from Anvil's stables. And... I poisoned one of her meals. Didn't kill her. Just gave her a... Wide array of symptoms."

"That taught her, I suppose." Shealyne spoke. Her brow furrowed though, "Mathieu? Do you eat innocent people?"

Well. That came out of the blue. At least, Mathieu thought it did. Although they were having a casual chat about eating people a minute ago; Mathieu just didn't plan on discussing HIM eating people until tonight, privately. The man frowned, and glanced to Eola - who looked indifferent - then to Shealyne.

"Define innocent." Oops. That was a telltale answer in itself, wasn't it?

Shealyne promptly ignored Mathieu's words. Mainly because she was beyond livid. She was so fucking livid she almost didn't feel anything. Her hand formed into a fist so tight her bones were popping and and her nails were cutting into her skin.

Despite her fist, it was the only sign of her anger. Her face was blank; stoic.

She wanted nothing more than to punch him right in the face and break open his skull. She wanted to yell at him. Say he was no fucking better, no fucking different than them.

She didn't even know why she was traveling with them anymore. For Mathieu, because she wanted to spend time with him. That was obvious. Yet she didn't even want to go to Solid-fucking-tude. She didn't want to travel with a pair of fucking cannibals and be a third fucking wheel to their fuck-eat-orgy parties.

Shealyne had wanted nothing more to tell him to go fuck himself and turn around and walk her ass right back to Whiterun.

But she didn't. Rather, the red head simply remained silent, seething and simmering as she simply walked behind the man.

Mathieu could just tell he made a mistake. Shealyne's face was inscrutable, but he saw her fist, knuckles white as bone from the pressure and even a little blood running down her fingers from her nails. Bellamont's frown etched deeper. His face pained, he mouthed 'I'm sorry' before turning his head back to the land. He assumed he may not work it out with her now; he already had a hunch of exactly what she thought, and that it would take some convincing. He assumed he couldn't tell her now that he's been doing this for longer than she believed. Eola still looked unaware of the situation.

Shealyne was hurt. She was hurt, and she was enraged. That fuck. She just couldn't understand it. Why? How could he be a cannibal? After the things he saw? After the things he went through to save her? And worse! A cannibal that ate innocent people! The woman frowned. She wanted to cry, but did not. She could accept him being a cannibal. She knew she could do that. But...innocent people? Why? Why not just bad people? Killers? Murderers? Rapists?

The woman resumed her frowning, and her silence. Her eye simply cast its gaze downwards, glued to the dirt in front of her boots.

Mathieu felt the need to halt where he was and straighten things out with Shealyne, like they have been doing quite well. But he couldn't. Not with Eola here. Soon he was becoming angry himself, though whether it was at Shealyne or his antics or even Eola was unclear. Mathieu walked faster. Eola matched his pace. He was swiveling his head, side-to-side, scanning and studying -

"Mathieu!-"

The man couldn't spin around before he was pushed by Eola, hearing the whistle of a gnarled arrow race past his head. He stumbled sideways. Looked back - there was a forsworn walking out behind a tree, already knocking another arrow in her bow. And so Eola was already shooting a fireball before he could grab his crossbow.

Shealyne blinked. Upon realizing what was happening, mana swelled within both palms. In one, she summoned a Storm Atronach, which simply began to blast a bolt of lightning at the Forsworn.

From her second cast, a Shambles was summoned. The odd mess of bones released a harrowed yet shrill hiss, talons ready. Yet the Shambles simply towered over its master, Shealyne herself unsheathing Dawnfang.

The forsworn woman was able to sidestep Eola's fireball, shooting an arrow at the cannibal - but her aiming gave enough time for Shealyne's storm atronach to pierce her with a lightning bolt. Light flashed and thunder clapped - the forsworn was sent back into the ground, electricity flowing through her body.

Just as one forsworn dropped, three more emerged from hidden places. Mathieu shot the crossbow at one as they moved. Suddenly that one tumbled down onto the earth. One could barely see the tail of the bolt, embedded deep in the skull.

The other two kept their distance, shooting magic at the three.

Shealyne, while not wanting to waste magica, did cast a hastey silence spell at one of the Forsworn. She was warry of a possible flank attack, and as such, remained where she was. Though it was arguably out of laziness. She wasn't running up a fucking steep cliff just to kill one Forsworn. Well, two, but still. She figured if antone got hurt, she could just get to them faster.

The Storm Atronach charged another lightning bolt, and soon shot the spell forth. Thunder echoed and roared as the bolt shot at an offensive Forsworn.

The Shambles hissed shrilly, bones clicking and clacking together to show its rage. Despite this, the undead predator remained by its master's side. If anything, its towering height served as a type of shield defense for its allies.

One forsworn was able to hurl an ice bolt - which careened at Eola and lanced into her shoulder - before Shealyne's silence spell took effect. Angered, the forsworn unsheathed two axes and charged forth. His companion was shot to the ground. Same as the first - but it seemed she was still alive, getting up and not relenting in her attacks.

A cry. Mathieu was rushed from the flank by another hidden enemy. Tackled down. He quickly rolled on his back to face this one - he kicked - and thrust the front of his crossbow upward, smashing into the ambusher's chin to make him step back. Mathieu regained himself. At the corner of his eye, he saw yet one more jumping down the mountainside to strike Shealyne from above. "Above you!" He called.

Shealyne then allowed her Shambles to hunt, the Daedra roaring, a raspy, haunting scream rupturing from its bone maw. The undead predator then charged upon the silenced Forsworn, getting itself between Eola and the threat. With a gutteral hiss, the Shambles raised its talons to strike and skewer the offending Forsworn.

The Storm Atronach boomed and rumbled in rage, deciding to whirlwind its way over to the female Forsworn that survived the shot to the ground, lightning cackling in its wake.

With her Shambles off the leash-and the Breton distracted by her struggling companions-Shealyne had very little time to react to the attacker. The only thing she could do was raise Dawnfang in an attempt to parry and prevent a fatal injury.

The surviving forsworn was backing up as the storm atronach got closer, though it was quickly closing the gap, and loaded and fired her bow at the deadra as fast as she could to hinder it.

Mathieu's attacker snapped out from their daze. In the second he glanced away the forsworn lunged, two swords held straight forward - they plunged into Mathieu's stomach and twisted, churning his insides. He let out a strangled gasp. Eola turned; with her good arm she gripped a steel blade. She dashed and charged into the forsworn, stabbing his side and bringing him down with her.

Shealyne's attacker met dawnfang, which blocked his blow, but he still crashed on top of the vampire. He was steadfast in lifting his axe again.

"Zun!"

And then his axe was gone. Ripped from his hands by a bluish force, flung from reach.

If an Atronach could frown, the Daedra certainly would be at this point. The creature then clapped its rocky hands together, a rumble and boom resounding. Twin bolts of lightning then shot from its elemental hands and raced towards the attacker.

Shealyne, upon being knocked down to the ground, realized once more why she disliked Dawnfang's blade length. She had trouble manuvering the damn thing to attack to properly block or strike. But at least the blade proved true when the woman claimed it to be reliable.

The Breton was confused-but thankful-to have her attackers weapons be magically ripped away by thw blue magic thing. What was that? A Shout thing? She would need to thank her Brother later.

The woman then poised Dawnfang, and rammed the blade through the Forsworn. The two sided blade was certainly hungry, for not only did it pierce and churn the man's insides, but its searing fire set his entrails ablaze.

The Forsworn could do little more than scream as Dawnfang fed upon his leeching soul, and claimed it as the man fell silent, limp, and reeking of burnt flesh. The Sauveterre furrowed her brow and scrunched her nose in disgust, rolling the man off of her and righting herself on her knees as she beckoned Dawnfang from its kill.

The woman turned to see how Mathieu was dealing with his attacker. She assumed the Forsworn was already dead, since he used the weapon rippy thingy to help her. What she saw almost made her heart jump in start, "Mmm-Mathieu!" Shealyne cried, moving far faster on shaken legs than she knew she could to reach his side, skidding as she dropped to her knees, inspecting the damage as mana began to swell in her palms.

Like the previous time, the forsworn woman could not evade the lightning darting at her; unlike the previous time, it looked liked she would stay dead when she hit the ground.

The two swords were lodged through Mathieu's stomach. Blood gushed from the wounds, painting the swords, staining his robes on both sides. Mathieu had faltered to his knees after he Shouted. Then he weakly sat down - though it hurt immensely. He tried tugging at the swords. Ouch. Nope. Some of the swords' sharp teeth were embedded inside; if one were to rip it out, his guts would tear apart and Mathieu would most likely bleed out. Eola got up, having dealt with the last forsworn, and was at Mathieu's side in an instant. She looked a lot less distressed than Shealyne, though.

The other woman grabbed one of the sword hilts, "Hm. We need to find a way to get these out. Without killing him in the process."

Shealyne already had two Restoration spells pulsing within her palms. Her answer was simple, "Just pull the blades out whilst I heal him. Unless you want to ram the blades through him, handle and all. I would not suggest that." The Sauveterre spoke.

Hmmm. Though there was Visceromancy. She could try that. No. Shealyne was not good enough. That, and Visceromancy was mainly used for reading organs or blood to scry and see memories. She doubted it could be used to manipulate blood or organs.

Eola nodded, though she was a bit uncertain. She didn't know restoration spells good enough to heal this amount of damage (which was mostly internal.) Then again, she didn't specialize in restoration. Mainly illusion and destruction. She just hoped the vampire wouldn't try to cause more harm to Mathieu out of spite for well, eating people. She didn't seem to like that.

Before she grasped the sword handles, Eola grabbed a sturdy stick off the ground and forced it in Mathieu's mouth, between his teeth. Hopefully to suppress his screaming. Clasping the blades, she made sure Shealyne was ready before slowly pulling them out.

As the blades were pulled out, the Silencer focused on pulsing her spells deep within the man's organs. The warm pulses flooded Mathieu's entrails, healing and repairing the damage done by the blades.

Hmmm. Shealyne had to admit, this was far easier than treating Aiden. But Mathieu just had blades in his gut. Aiden had his rib cage smashed and was choking on his blood from the inside.

Despite the warm pulses of the spells dulling the pain of the blades, it was still unbearable. Mathieu clenched his fists into the ground, ripping up grass, fingers digging into dirt; he clamped his teeth on the stick to stop himself from screeching.

Yet, just as the pain came over him, so too did it end as swiftly. Eola had eased the swords out, and Shealyne's healing patched up any damage in its wake. Though his robe was a little torn. Oh well. Mathieu looked down at his stomach. He spat the stick out of his mouth, and said without looking up, "... Th, thanks, you two..."

"None necessary." Shealyne spoke, smiling slightly, "Do you require aid to move, or do you want to rest a bit?"

"No. It's, fine-!"

Mathieu leaned forward, beginning to stand, and he winced as if sharply jabbed in the gut. He was unsure if Shealyne had healed all the damage. Her spells were strong, however. It must be some aftereffect. And it felt weird. Like needles were poking his guts.

The woman furrowed her brows in concern, "Eola, check to see if none of the spikes on the blades broke off." Shealyne ordered, "Er, please?"

That would be bad. Very bad, "Do not try to move, Mathieu. Not until we can rule that scenario out." Any movement might make him bleed out internally...she hoped it was just something weird, like his body still sore and pained, and not a broken off bone spike.

Eola examined the swords. Counted the spikes. "I don't believe so."

Mathieu sat there moments more before daring to move, just slight stretching his body. The pain was not felt. "I, think it's fine now... Must not have, entirely quelled the pain of ripping them out... But it's alright." He then slowly got to his feet.

"No broken off points? Hmmm. Very, well." Shealyne spoke, putting a hand on Mathieu, as if to support him, "Let us know of any pain, yes?"

The woman's Storm Atronach was then summoned back to the Waters of Oblivion. Her Shambles, however, wandered back to the group, hissing, and sporting a dead Forsworn skewered upon its talons.

"Ah. Good!" Shealyne was pleased. She could get her Forsworn attire now! And it was not too damaged! Just a bit bloody...

Mathieu simply nodded. He and Eola gazed around at the battle scene, the blood, the forsworn...

"At least you got your wish, Shealyne." Eola chuckled, as if reading Shealyne's mind.

The woman nodded, "Yes, yes. Excuse me. I will go and change."

Before leaving, however, the woman noticed Mathieu's staring. As such, Shealyne bared her fangs, and gave a feral, almost feline like hiss in warning, eye hard and dark.

The Breton then turned around, and decided to leave the two be for a bit as she walked off. The Shambles followed behind the Silencer, dragging the body.

Mathieu was taken aback by Shealyne's hostility. He turned around, back facing her as the vampire left. A minute passed.

"... I'm guessing now, that was a secret better left hidden from her?" Eola said.

Mathieu, sighing, responded, "Let her know it. I've kept it from her for long enough. She has her own secrets I'm not content with, either."

Shealyne took her time changing. Mainly because she had difficulty putting the attired on. She had difficultly telling where her head or legs went through the loose holes.

The sound of crying, however, got her attention. It was more akin to a soft murmur or whimper, but the Breton heard it none the less. After careful poking and prodding along the rocks, the Sauveterre found a tiny hole within the rocks. It was too small for her to fit through, and she could see nothing in the darkness of the tiny cave.

She allowed her eye to adjust to the blackness, and found that there was, indeed, something inside. Or someone. Which was a baby, sitting upon the cold and jagged stone, pale face flushed red from crying. The baby resumed to whimper and softly cry, chubby cheeks streamed with tears. The baby had wisps of blonde hair, and blue eyes. Her pudgy belly was covered in a make shift shirt, which was a burlap sack. The course material had rubbed parts of the baby's delicate skin red and raw.

The baby certainly was not happy. And Shealyne frowned. Awe. Poor thing. She wondered if it was stuffed in there by a parent attempting to draw the Forsworn away? The woman attempted to stuff an arm in to reach for the baby, but the action scared her, and the baby whimpered and cried, chubby arms flailing and attempting to bat the scary thing away.

Shealyne's frown deepened as she retracted her arm. Hmmm. Cooing could help? Maybe? Then the baby would not be so scared?

"Shhhh. It is okay. It is okay. Awe, look at you? There is no need to be scared, honey." The Breton cooed, tone soft and warm. The baby appeared to calm, ceasing her crying to a wimper, lower lip trembling.

The two bretons swore they heard crying from the direction Shealyne left. "...Is she?..."

Eola shrugged. "It doesn't sounded like a woman crying. But it is faint... I'm not sure."

Mathieu decided to check on Shealyne, though only went a couple bounds to where Shealyne headed, not wanting to catch her changing or something. Not that it would faze him.

"Shealyne? We heard something... Are you alright?" The man called over.

A 'Yes.' was heard in response.

Though Shealyne herself was okay. Kind of. The awkward rocky terrain made her get on her stomach to try and bettet see the baby, her head practically bonking against the stone as her arm dangled for something. But it was harder to fish out a baby than she thought. More so due to the narrowness of the mini cave, and the jagged rocks that were in it. Good thing she was flexible and double jointed. If she were not, she was pretty sure she would have broken her arm. It was already feeling the strain of being twisted so far.

The woman managed to grasp onto the course sack that made the baby's clothing. She then attempted to lift and drag the baby.

Sithis, children were heavier than she remembered...and she wanted to be careful in pulling the baby out with the rocks around her.

The baby resumed to whimper and cry, batting at the hand, now scared.

Mathieu and Eola exchanged glances. Mathieu went to get closer to where Shealyne was, but Eola shook her head and told him to wait.

The Breton woman eventually brought the baby out of the mini cave, the baby now crying because the light hurt her eyes, pudgy arms flailing and tears once more staining her chubby cheeks.

"Shhhh." The Sauveterre cooed, pressing the baby against her chest and lightly bouncing her, "It is okay, little one."

The baby seemed to find comfort at being rocked and hearing a soothing, motherly voice. Though she did tremble, her crying had ceased.

"There you go...that was not hard, was it?" Shealyne questioned, tone soft and sweet. The woman briefly looked on the ground. Her satchel was still there, as were her shirt and pants. Hmmmm. Well, it looks like she will lose her shirt. Good thing she decided to want a Forsworn bra...

"Uh...Mathieu? Do infants fall under your diet preference?" The woman called in question.

Mathieu was certainly bemused at the random question. "I... No! Why!?-" But then he pursed his lips, frowning, as if he just realized it. Wait... What? Was that the crying they heard? No... He ambled over in Shealyne's direction through the rocky terrain until he spotted the vampire. And he halted right there. "... By the Nine." Said the man.

"More specifically...a year and a half old baby." The woman took a guestimate. Though she was perplexed by Mathieu's response, she took that as a 'yes'. Babies were innocent, after all. And they had a lot of tender fat on them.

With one arm, Shealyne propped the toddler on her hip, which she jutted out slightly to better support the baby. With her free hand, she worked on getting the sack off. The woman briefly set the butt naked baby down on the ground as she went to grab her shirt that was left on the ground, bending over.

The baby took the opportunity to run like the wind! Or, rather, waddle as fast as her mini thunder thighs could carry her. Which was not fast at all.

The toddler looked upon Mathieu, and smiled, producing a gummy smile as her dimples formed around her mouth. With a mighty war cry, the baby made a charge towards the man, chubby arms flailing and portly belly quaking with each slap of her tiny feet padding upon the rock.

"Eeeee!" The infant shouted, which was the only sound that could be made. The rest was just random baby babble as she spouted nonsense happily.

The baby ended up falling upon the male Breton's boot. Though if anything, the toddler found it funny, for she laughed and smiled, resuming to babble happily.

* * *

**Thank you for reading this story and putting up with our crappy characters thus far!**


	5. Of Falmer and Dragons

**Hello! I apologize for the infrequent updates. I have fun writing babies/toddlers. Their happiness is infectious. **

* * *

Mathieu looked on, seemingly petrified. He rubbed his temples, as if making sense of this unexpected occurrence - or trying to understand what this strange alien creature he'd never knew existed that was babbling and drooling on his boot was. "... Where did you find this, infant? Have you found a dead man or woman near? Or... Did it belong to the forsworn party?"

"I wouldn't think so," Eola was sauntering up behind Mathieu, "Why would they transport a baby from their camp?"

"I'm unsure. But if it was not the forsworn, than who? Someone from Karthwasten? Markarth? What, do you suppose we do with it? Shealyne?" He looked from the baby girl to the vampire, smirking, "And no. I'm not going to eat it. No worries there."

"I found her in a hole between the rocks." Shealyne spoke, walking over to Mathieu before kneeling down in front of him, if only to get at the little girl as Shealyne put her cloth shirt over the baby. She tied the loose ends between the toddler's legs, and fashioned it into pajamas.

With that done, Shealyne then hoisted the infant up into her arms, squishing the baby against her breasts as she focused on bouncing the mini person. The baby merely babbled softly, arms lightly smacking Shealyne's arms in play. Based on the baby's expression, being held and bounced was the best thing in the world.

"Awe, Matty, you looked so terrified. Never saw an infant before?" The woman cooed, voice loving, yet teasing as she continued to hold the toddler. Though as soon as her voice became motherly, it turned to her normal bitchy tone, "Eh...I can take care of her until we get to a major town. The temples take in babies, no?" The woman questioned.

The infant resumed to produce a gummy smile, before shoving her tiny fist into her mouth. The baby then extracted her drool encoated hand, and promptly shoved her pudgy fingers towards the Silencer.

"Ugh!...noooooo..." Shealyne grimaced at getting beat up and covered with baby saliva. Ugh. She forgot how gross babies were...and evil...

"Pft. Yes. But it's not as if, I've had to interact with one. I had no siblings." Mathieu said. "But... Yes. You're right. We could simply continue to Solitude, then. I assume we'll never find it's parents. Likely killed or captured by that forsworn party. It'd be nigh useless to search for them."

Eola had another idea. "We are not far from Markarth. If you don't mind a slight delay in your plans."

"Yes? And give the baby to a bunch of whores at the Temple of Dibella."

"I could think of plenty of worse fates."

Shealyne frowned slightly, "I agree with Mathieu. I heard the priestesses force their initiates to watch them copulate with men. And then the initiates must copulate with said men to show the priestesses that they learned something."

At least, that was what the woman heard from Ruccia during her time at the Temple of Dibella. She assumed it to be true, "I do not mind taking care of her until Solitude."

Mathieu simply nodded to Shealyne, heading past the vampire to retrieve her satchel and pants for her. Against his better judgement he kept sparing glances at her; her form, hugged with coarse forsworn garb. The baby, cradled in the woman's arms, making a slobbering mess over her and itself. Egh. But he mulled it over for a few minutes. A glint of, hopefulness, flickered in his eyes. He discarded it. That couldn't happen... The man already missed one chance, and this was only temporary...

"I'll carry these," Mathieu slung Shealyne's bag over his shoulder, stuffing her pants inside. It bounced off Mathieu's satchel. "You just carry... Her, you said?"

The Breton nodded, "Yes. Her. Thank you. But, I am sorry, Mathieu. That you got hurt. You did not have to use the shouting thing to protect me. You should have focused upon yourself. Or we should have just went with the horse idea. I am sorry." Shealyne spoke, the baby babbling softly as she blew a raspberry. The infant's chubby fingers began to grasp the woman's short, bedraggled hair, pulling it in several directions, "Ow...shtop it. Shtop it. Bad."

The baby laughed, "Ba ba, ba!"

"Yesh. Bad. You bad." The Silencer murmured softly, sticking her lengthy tongue out at the child.

The infant attempted to do the same, but all she did was blow a spit bubble.

"Ah, Eola, I can heal your wound, if you wish." The red head spoke towards the fellow Breton.

Hmmm. But Shealyne still felt bad. About her Brother. He did not have to carry her things...

"Don't be... I was the one who decided to do that. And I'm not hurt anymore, aren't I? It was a, decently planned ambush, but we prevailed." Mathieu smirked at Shealyne, "And... Expect me to protect you more, with that newborn in your arms..."

Eola was only reminded of the ice spike still in her shoulder when Shealyne spoke of it. The cold numbed the pain, really. "It's fine, thank you... I can fix it myself."

"Awe...you are sweet." The Sauveterre smiled. Despite the baby spittle on her face. She wouldn't mind having another child of her Brother's. But at the same time, that thought made her guilty. She didn't want to replace Runa. Runa was special. She was their baby. Well, minus the nutcase Listener part, but still...

Having this new baby also made Shealyne realize how well behaved Runa was. Runa was akin to a vegetable. Quiet and well mannered. For a baby, at least. This new one was loud and bossy. And more gross.

The woman then nodded towards Eola, "Very well, then. But let me know if you change your mind."

Shealyne's comment made Mathieu laugh strangely - more like a chortle, really. But it quelled as he frowned slightly at the baby. Ew. He hoped Runa hadn't been as gross and obnoxious as this one... Which reminded him, that he wanted to have Shealyne replay her memories to him soon. "Perhaps once we settle in Solitude, Shealyne... You could show me... You know. I'm certain you'll be, a little occupied, until then."

Eola furrowed a brow at him.

Shealyne's brow furrowed at the odd laugh. Did she say something strange? Probably. Oh, well.

The woman, however, nodded, and smiled, "Of course, Mathieu. I would be happy to. I assume little miss chubby wubby will have a new home by then." The Breton cooed at the baby.

The infant merely smiled, "Eeeee!"

"Yes, yes. Eeeee. I know, you are hungry..."

Oh. Uh. Well, Mathieu didn't know what babies ate. Besides milk. From their mother, usually. Why would he know? "Erhm... What do they eat, typically? We don't have milk."

"Well..." Shealyne used her free hand to pop open the baby's mouth, "...She has her baby teeth. Or at least some. So she can eat solids. Tiny small-small pieces. Not big pieces. Uh, do we have any meat? That is not from people?" The Breton asked.

Eola snickered. Mathieu produced a thin strip of meat from his bag, and held it out to Shealyne.

Shealyne narrowed her eye at the piece of meat as if it was her immortal enemy. She carefully took it, and proceeded to sniff the meat. She didn't trust them, and she didn't want the child to eat people meat. She wouldn't want her own children to, "Are you sure, Mathieu?"

"Yes, Shealyne. It isn't human. I promise." Mathieu looked the vampire dead in the eye, face straight. "If you don't trust me, have a bite yourself. I'm sure you'd know the taste, as good as us."

Shealyne thought about biting into the meat, but decided not to for two main reasons. The first reason was simply due to not wanting to vomit. The second reason was due to her deciding to trust her Brother. She had been honest with him so far. Why would he be dishonest to her?

So, the woman ripped off a tiny piece of meat with her fingers, and gave it to the toddler. The baby's eyes went wide, chubby fingers reaching for the meat. Upon getting it, the baby promptly shoved the food-and her whole fist-into her mouth.

"Mmmmmm." The child breathed through her nose, free hand reaching for more food. Shealyne shook her head,

"No, no. Finish what you have first." She didn't want the baby to choke.

Mathieu was patient, watching Shealyne and the baby. Eola was melting the ice spike and frost from her injury with a flame spell, applying a simple healing spell to slowly mend the puncture wound. When Shealyne was nearly done feeding the child, Mathieu had turned back towards the path they were previously following. "When you two are ready..." He said. He was mostly meaning Shealyne and that little bundle of drool in her arms... Nine, it'll get annoying calling it 'the newborn' or 'the child' or 'the baby.'

Perhaps they should name her?

"I am ready whenever you are." The Sauveterre spoke, though began to walk along the previous path they were following. Hmmmm. She wished she was a baby. They were so simple to keep happy and amused, "Imagine, the life of a baby. So simple and oblivious."

"Hm. I do wish life was as carefree and jovial, as it seemed as a baby... Things would be ever easier." Well, that was a way to make a casual question kind of depressing. What she actually meant probably flew right over Mathieu's head.

"...You are just a ray of sunshine." Shealyne commented. But she should have expected no less. She was surprised Mathieu didn't kill himself yet.

"How could I not be?" Mathieu said, tone in mock boredom.

"Because you are in the presence of this little dough girl?" Shealyne questioned, hoisting the baby to practically sit upon her beasts, an arm around the child's waist. With her free hand, the woman proceeded to squish the toddler's pudgy cheeks, altering the pressure to make it appear as if the toddler was talking.

A high pitched, girlish voice came from the vampire as she pretended to be the baby, "Hi, Mathieu! Turn that frown upside down!"

The baby proceeded to 'dance', which was simply the Sauveterre lightly rocking the infant side to side.

The toddler had no idea what was going on. She simply giggled and laughed because she liked being played with.

Mathieu shook his head, though he was smirking.

"Fah!" The woman then exclaimed, putting the baby back upon her hip, "So that is what I am awarded with all my hard work?" Shealyne questioned on mock tease. At least Mathieu was smirking.

"It's hard work squishing a baby's face together? Talking in a squeaky voice?" Questioned Bellamont. He came up to Shealyne's side and grasped the newborn's face gently between two fingers, squishing them together or apart as he too spoke in a high-pitched voice, "Seee? I can talk like this too! Anybody can do it!"

My, was he going to feel so ashamed of himself once he returned to Fort Dawnguard.

Apparently the baby didn't like Mathieu touching her, as she wrenched away and started smacking his arm and whimpering.

Shealyne laughed at seeing the man mimic her. It was to the point where she simply could not stop smiling.

"You are damn right it is hard. Not everyone can master the manipulative, high pitched art of baby puppets." The Sauveterre cooed, lightly bumping herself against the male in play, "Voices will crack, babies will get fussy, and baby drool will fly!"

Oh, Sithis. Her face was beginning to hurt from laughing and smiling too much. Ahhh! She did not want her face to be stuck in a smile! But the woman merely rocked the toddler gently, attempting to calm her. Awe! Someone apparently did not like being touched by her Brother. A shame...

"Tch." Mathieu rolled his eyes.

Eola was now leading the group, surveying the area as they went and quietly listening to Mathieu and Shealyne chatter on. Oh, did she have the feeling that this was going to be a strange trip.

"And here comes Mister Surly." The woman proclaimed, sticking her tongue out at the man. Huh...babies did a lot to boost her mood. It was scary. She figured it was because their oblivious happiness was infectious. At least when it came to her.

And Mathieu noticed how jovial Shealyne seemed, now. "Oh? Am I? And what are you, Miss Convivial? You've seemed, happier, since you've found, erm, her..."

"Not a Missus Surly-Miss Surly, I mean." The woman quickly corrected herself. Opps. Oh, well, "But apparently babies are the key to my happiness. At least chubby cheeked ones like this little sweetroll." Shealyne cooed, her last sentence warm and inviting as she referenced the little girl. The Breton lightly blew air kisses as the toddler's red hued cheek, the funny noises she made whilst doing so causing the girl to laugh and happily babble in response.

Ahhhh! What was wrong with her? This was why she needed a pet...oh, well. At least the baby was cute. Not all babies were. And Shealyne thought they were damn ugly as newborns...

"Missus." Mathieu smirked. "But I'll, keep that in mind, then. I'll go and grab a baby for you when you're cross with me."

Shealyne's attitude around this newborn did surprise him a little, though. He would have believed raising three children would tire one out. At least, it would to him. Though, on the contrary, he supposed it would make someone more apt to handle those situations, and thus at ease about it... Huh. It was a bit embarrassing how little the man knew of this kind of stuff, for how much he used to dream of having a family and taking care of one or two little bastards - err - his own children, of course!

Shealyne laughed slightly, "Like I said before, you are sweet."

Shealyne resumed to smile. This was nice. Though it was surprising. She didn't mind taking care of the baby, but she could feel that fatigue begin to come back, even if faint. Fah! Didn't even have the child for half a day and she was beginning to feel like she had it for months. But it was a good feeling. Because it just meant she had something else to focus and fret upon that actually needed her time and energy. Of course, she did expend a large amount of mana, so her winded state could have been from that.

Though the woman found it queer. She remembered Mathieu wanting children. Yet he did not seem overly fond of the child. Though that may very well be because it wasn't his. Unless his desires changed, and he no longer wanted a family? The Sauveterre found that hard to believe.

It was rather quiet traveling for some time, save for the sounds of nature and the occasional disruptive baby noises. Mathieu wasn't sure how far they've gone already, but it was about high noon, nearing afternoon, so they have been walking for awhile. He asked Shealyne, "Getting worn out, yet? We could take a break."

"Oh, no, I am good, yet. Well, other than my arms getting a bit sore. I forgot how heavy babies are." The Sauveterre laughed lightly.

"If you say so..." Mathieu said. He gave Eola a questioning gaze, and she simply shook her head no. This prompted him to move up ahead to spy out the path they were taking; it looked as if they were coming up at a slope.

Bending his knees, Mathieu climbed up the slope. There, he overlooked the rocky land rolling deep below the ledge, a river running to their left; in the distance, it snaked off into much more tame looking terrain. Haafingar, it seemed. They'd just have to find a way around this cliff face. "If we do not encounter any more trouble... I'd say we'd make it to Dragon Bridge by nightfall. Perhaps less."

At least this risky shortcut was proving true.

"Good." The Sauveterre nodded. Then she could rest her feet. And her arms. It would feel good to sleep in a bed. Hmmm. If Dragon Bridge even had an inn. The Breton could not remember.

It was hard to be a baby. This evidence was backed up by the infant slouched against the woman's arm and breasts, sleeping. The little girl slept, snoring softly and sucking upon her own thumb. A stream of saliva ran from her mouth, staining Shealyne's arm.

Awe. But eeww...

A stumble back down to Shealyne and Eola and Mathieu would be leading to the right, where the sloped rock slowly declined. It was still a couple feet above the land. Still jagged. But it seemed to the safest route compared to. And it would lead to the main road! Hopefully.

As Eola made her way down, then Mathieu, the man waited at the base and held his arms out to Shealyne.

Shealyne was cautious in her step, and thus slow, for she did not want to slip and fall and hurt the baby. Holding the child firmly in one hand, the Sauveterre's other hand went to grasp Mathieu for stability as she made her way down.

Mathieu grabbed Shealyne and guided her safely to even ground. They continued forth.

Shealyne nodded in thanks. The woman remained silent for the majority of the travel, not wanting to risk waking the baby.

The three were soon to reach the main road to Dragon Bridge with little more trouble than a jutting rock or rut in the ground threatening to trip them up. Which was lucky to Mathieu, as he did not want even some mild fault in the land to harm Shealyne and the newborn, and he kept vigilant watch ahead and around them... Tch. Why was he acting so overprotective? That was some random child scooped out of a hole. And his relationship with the vampire was, well, complicated. It was a bit vexing.

Still, Mathieu kept on high alert. The breton's ears pricked up - the was a guttural roar sounding at their flank, so far in the distance perhaps only he had heard it. He waited. After a minute there was another roar, much closer. Coming closer.

"... Dragon." Was all he spoke.

Shealyne sighed, a spell flooding her free hand, a Dremora Lord being summoned, as surly as ever.

"I can help fight if I hide the baby. Or would you want me to hide with her?" Shealyne asked. She wanted to fight with the others, but if the baby cried, got scared, and drew the dragon's attention, she may not be able to get to the baby in time. If she didn't fight, she could help keep the baby from getting scared and crying.

Apparently Mathieu was thinking the same as Shealyne. "Aid us if you'd like... But if you think staying with the child would help detract attention from it, that could be just as helpful." He had already drawn his crossbow, and Eola had gathered up her own magicka in her hands and summoned a flame atronach.

Shealyme frowned, though nodded, "Very well. I will hide. But if you require aid, or healing, call me, yes?" The woman questioned, though scurried off to try and find agood hiding place away from the impending battle.

Mathieu and Eola, going in the opposite direction of Shealyne, also sought out a spot for the impending battle, although less for hiding and more advantageous for blocking the dragon's onslaught. Mathieu had always used the environment to gain an upper hand against the beasts. It was perhaps the only way he'd survive their attacks when alone. Once they had found an area to suit that tactic, Eola had commanded her atronach to stay behind and out in the open, hopefully luring in the dragon. All the while, guttural sounds became ever more frequent and booming.

Shealyne had found a fair enough area to hide, and simply focused on rocking the infant, humming and singing softly.

They waited. A great beat of wings came from above them; another cry made the earth tremble in its wake. Eola watched her atronach stare at the skies, a fireball readied - and without a moments notice it jerked its head to the side, shooting flames at something on the road. Wait - no - the dragon was flying! Mathieu peered over in the direction the flame atronach had now faced.

Falmer? There were three falmer scrambling down the road at the deadra, snarling. Hm? They usually never wandered out into the outside world. But Mathieu was quick to aim his crossbow at one, observing it. Eola's sights remained on the dragon, now circling above the scene.

As Shealyne resumed hiding, her Dremora had followed a bit ways behind. Upon seeing the odd knife ears attack its Dremora-in-Arms, the Daedric warrior charged forth, greatsword at the ready as it cast a shock spell at one of the Falmer.

Mathieu had one falmer locked in his crosshair, following it as it charged at the flame atronach. One falmer had raised its shield at Shealyne's dremora lord; in a boom of thunder the shield in itself cracked, shattering, and though electricity ran through the blind mer the brunt of the damage was blocked. Mathieu waited, waited... And a great stream of flames was unleashed, spreading like waves throughout the area, the dragon screeching. It had stopped circling, hovered, then dropped between the fighting mer and deadra. Dust kicked up. It was a blur for a moment, but everyone now targeted the dragon.

Mathieu smirked. Yet another tactic that kept him alive; wait as your other enemies whittled its health down. A shame there wasn't more falmer, though... Or perhaps there might be. Hidden.

The Dremora became distracted by the far larger threat, and launched another bolt of lightning at the wyrm.

Occupied with the attacking falmer and deadra at its feet, the dragon could barely pay mind to Mathieu and Eola as they sent bolts and magic at it. The wyrm whipped its tail, sweeping two falmer and the dremora off their feet. If the dragon was in pain, the beast certainly didn't show it.

The Dremora grunted, cursing as he quickly recovered.

The dragon let out a howl as Mathieu had punctured its eye with a bolt. It released another surge of fire, craning its neck around at its opponents, turning to Mathieu and Eola. The pair ducked behind a boulder - flames licked hungrily at rock, but did not touch them. This allowed for the other attackers to target the dragons weak points.

The Dremora Lord , while managing to avoid the searing flames, was unable to hit the dragon with his blade. Rather, the Daedra once more unleashed a powerful lightning bolt at the dragon's head.

The dremora's lightning bolt hit the dragon square at one side of its face, the force causing its head to snap to the side. A screech - the wyrm took off into the sky with one beat of its wings, though it was difficult with the thin membranes having been slashed and scorched.

The Dremora was not happy about his prey flying off, and decided to taunt the beast, "Land and fight, so I can severe your wings, worm!"

"FUS!"

A bluish energy shot through the air. As if a gale, the sudden force staggered the dragon and, with the damage to its wings, knocked it off its course. The wyrm struggled. Balanced itself. It nearly took a pell-mell dive into the ground when it had picked itself up, arching back into the sky. Now the dragon was staring directly at Mathieu. It made some strange snort, like some laugh at his Shout.

"Yor... Toor... Shul!" One large blast of fire was expelled, racing towards Eola and Mathieu.

While the Dremora had no interest in saving pathetic mortal lives, he was, unfortunately, bound to act by his master's will. Which, unfortunately for the Dremora, meant keeping the shrieking Wyrmsperm mortal safe.

The Dremora charged forth, the ground seeming to quake under his boots. The Dremora Lord cursed and damned his Daedric Lord of a master-quite loudly-since the Dremora was quite upset despite what his body was doing.

The Dremora then roughly-and perhaps a bit too forcefully due to his anger-shoved Mathieu quite the distance away from the wrath of the flame.

He should have pledged himself to Dagon instead. If the Dremora knew his bimbo of a godling master would make him play babysitter for little rat bastard mortal, he would have shoved his boot up Shealyne's ass.

Mathieu wasn't quite sure what happened at first. In one moment he was stepping sideways, looking at the dragon, about to duck and dive and roll to evade the Shout that spewed from its maw - and in the next he was suddenly forced into the ground, tumbling over himself. He heard a snap from his crossbow. A rumble as the fire Shout burst. The man wasn't sure if Eola had dodged in time. Still, he bolted up, focusing back on the dragon.

The angry Dremora Lord was now a hot, angry Dremora Lord. A bit literally. Because he was on fire. The Dremora hissed and cursed in rage, and while the fires were intense, his Daedric armor did a damn fine job at keeping him from getting crispy.

Now the summoned creature was shouting profanities at the wyrm, and almost akin to his rage, the Dremora launched volley after volley of fireballs at the dragon. Not that all of them were aimed anywhere near the beast. It was a bit hard to cast with fire in his face. But the Dremora tried his best based on hearing.

"I will burn your marrow to dust!" The summon hissed.

In his angry barraging the dremora had managed to hit the dragon with a couple of his wild fireballs. It tried gliding around them, but its wings could not carry it enough, and the blows eventually took him out of the air. The ground quaked as it landed. Mathieu saw his chance then; he dashed, dropping his crossbow, climbed the side of its neck and scurried up atop its head.

The Dremora Lord had since then cooled off, more so literally due to the flames upon him dying down. With the dragon down, the summon hoisted his greatsword, and released a war cry as he charged forth, "I will sever your wings, curr!"

The dragon flailed its head, swung its neck to try and dislodge Mathieu from its head - but the breton had an iron grip on its horns. Fire spouted, setting anything it touched alight. Mathieu held close to one horn - with a free arm he unsheathed his dagger and started stabbing wildly into its skull.

The Dremora Lord attempted to avoid the flames as best he could, though once more got set ablaze. The Dremora was far from pleased.

Mathieu was scrambling around on the dragon. He clung to its scales, its horns, its nostrils, fighting against its thrashing and thrusting his dagger at its weak points. The wyrm was starting to slow, weakening from the wounds and chilled by the dagger's enchantment.

The Dremora Lord began to do as he promised: the summon began to slash at the dragon's wings, still cursing in rage.

The dragon screeched in pain, both from Mathieu piercing its eyes and with his dagger and the Dremora trying to chop off its wings. Now its whole body writhed and jerked to throw off its attackers to no avail. The wyrm's movements were pausing, slowing, stilling... And eventually the beast lied down on its belly. A few shallow breaths. Then there was none.

The Dremora was quite pleased. Actually, no he was not. Because the dragon still had its wings. So the summon began to resume his chopping of the wings.

Mathieu hopped off. He surveyed the area; searching for their other enemies, he found that two falmer were dead on the ground, corpses burnt to a crisp and their weapons and armor charred. Eola's flame atronach lay beside them, a pile of coal and fire salts. But where was Eola? And the other falmer? As he stood near, the dragon's flesh began to disintegrate, pieces of scale and flesh mystically melting off into bone.

The Dremora grunted, and began to make his way back to his master.

The dragons flesh, as it melted from its bones, fluttered into the sky and dissipated into wisps and strings of energy that raced towards Bellamont and enveloped him in a white veil. It seemed that the man was in a trance as the energy was taken into himself; many voices and images and memories unknown flashed across his eyes and mind in a matter of heart beats, overwhelming him, before they faded. Despite the quick passing, Mathieu suddenly felt a new understanding. Though he wasn't sure what that understanding was yet.

* * *

The Sauveterre guessed the fighting was already happening, based upon the sounds she heard. She wondered how long it would last?

A lone falmer, whether it was one straying from the group or some hidden reinforcement, was wandering away from the battle, as if seeking out something.

The red head, however, was busy attempting keeping the baby calm and quiet. It was quite hard to distract the baby from the loud noises in the distance.

With its acute hearing, the falmer picked up the baby's noises from the near distance. Sneering, the falmer hobbled towards the sound.

The baby, on the other hand, was whimpering. Her chubby cheeks were dyed red, her lips quivering. Shealyne was attempting to shoosh the infant quiet, the loud noises of combat, even in the distance, scared her.

"Shhhh. Shhhhh. It is okay. Everything is okay." The woman cooed, hugging and gently rocking the bundle of drool.

The falmer heard Shealyne's coos. Sword and shield raised, the blind creature was lead straight to the woman and the baby she carried.

Shealyne ceased her cooing, her hackles rising as her instincts told her danger was near. That, and she could smell a creature of filth near. Deep and dank like the earth. The Breton looked to the baby, before deciding to set the infant down.

The woman then got to her feet, Dawnfang unsheathing. She could smell where the thing was coming from. So long as she kept herself between the threat and the baby, things should be fine.

Shealyne then stepped in the direction of the threat, cautious, and wary.

The lone falmer had heard the shuffling feet, unsheathing of metal, and charged at the maker of the sound, shield covering most of its front side.

Shealyne looked at the thing before her, unsure what it was. Still, she decided to do a direct approach, an ice spike shooting from her palm towards the shield. The Breton then attempted to move a bit off to the side, aiming to both draw the creature away from the baby, and flank...whatever this ugly thing was.

Shealyne's ice spike stuck in the falmer's shield. It did not harm, however, and the falmer swerved to face Shealye as she moved.

Hmmm. Good. It was following. The woman whistled, beginning to move away from the location of the hiding spot. In her hand, mana swelled, and a scamp was summoned. The creature danced akin to a jester before falling silent, and staying still.

Shealyne banged Dawnfang against a tree, whistling once more as she resumed to back up, "Come on. Come and get me, big boy." The woman wanted to lure this thing a ways away. And then the scamp could flank and ambush. Hopefully.

The falmer tilted its head at Shealyne. It swore it heard another patter of feet but still advanced to the woman, wary.

Shealyne cocked her head. Hmmmm. She was still trying to find out what this thing was. A type of elf? Maybe she could train it! Like a dog! That would be fun! Then she would have a...ugly blind elf thing as a pet!

Hmmmm. But it did not entirely seem friendly...maybe it could speak?

"Lower your weapons, please. I do not want trouble." The Breton spoke, cautious, and not allowing it to get too close.

The falmer snarled in response. It charged forward at the vampire, sword lifted to strike.

Oh. Or not. Shealyne raised Dawnfang to block the strike whilst her scamp jumped into action, launching a fireball at the Falmer.

The falmer's sword bounced off Dawnfang. The falmer stumbled back, and was hit in the side by the scamps fireball. It backed away from the two before running at the scamp and ramming into it with its shield.

The scamp hissed in fear at getting smacked, the thin creature being knocked to the ground. Seeing the Falmer distracted, Shealyne then charged forth, wielding Dawnfang to ram the hungry blade through the creature's back.

The falmer heard the vampire's hurried steps, and felt fire as Dawnfang lanced into its back. But that didn't stop it. The creature spun around and slashed at Shealyne.

Shealyne hissed as the thing's blade slashed her thigh. Ow! The woman retracted Dawnfang, and backed up defensively. The scamp had gotten to its feet, and launched another fireball at its master's attacker.

The falmer let out a shriek, the fireball blasting into its back. Scorched, but still not yielding - the falmer went to strike at Shealyne again.

The woman raised Dawnfang to block. Stupid shield. She couldn't attack. But at least she was distracting this thing. The scamp proceeded to launch a third fireball at the distracted creature.

The blades clashed together, but not for long as the third fireball finally took the falmer down. It knelt before Shealyne and tried to stumble back to its feet.

Shealyne looked at the odd thing, before raising Dawnfang to lop off the creature's head with a grunt.

The falmer's head rolled away, its charred body going limp. The sounds of battle had at last faded away.

Ugh. Shealyne grunted, sheathing Dawnfang. She briefly looked at the gash on her thigh, blood smearing upon her skin due to her walking. It stung, but the Breton decided to ignore it and return to the baby. She assumed the dragon was slain, since she heard no raging wyrm thrashing around.

Shealyne, upon picking the baby, decided to hobble off in the direction she heard the combat. The scamp was unsummoned, though the woman's returning Dremora did find her. And promptly berated her about having to babysit the shrieking Wyrmsperm. Which Shealyne promptly dismissed and ignored as she happened upon the burnt battlefield.

Oh? And the dragon had no flesh? Perhaps that was what Mathieu meant when he spoke about melting dragon skin. The Breton assumed it was a Dragonborn thing.

Dazed from the occurrence, Mathieu did not notice Shealyne until moments after she arrived. The man turned to her, noticing her cut. Luckily it seemed to be only one wound, and the newborn was uninjured. "Shealyne! What happened?" He said. Approaching the vampire, he fumbled in his satchel for bandages.

"You do not need to waste bandages on me, Mathieu." The woman spoke. It was only her thigh, anyway, "An ugly white thing with knife ears ears attacked."

Hmmmm. Looking around, it looked like a few of those ugly white things attacked here, too, "You are unharmed, yes? Where is Eola?"

Mathieu frowned. "Eola? I... Have not seen her since the dragon launched a, fire Shout at us..."

"Right here." The woman had emerged from the place her and Mathieu had been stationed at, seemingly unharmed. She dragged a falmer along behind her. "You made quick work of that dragon. And that dragon made quick work of the falmer. Except this one. This one came for me." She said. "I could have helped more but it seemed everything was under control... Well, as much as it could've been."

Shealyne looked at the woman, then to the Falmer. She probably had been eating that thing. Or was going to.

"Well, now that the action is over, I am ready to proceed whenever you two are." The Sauveterre spoke, absentmindedly wipeing the blood from her thigh. She only succeeded in smearing it. Ugh. It was starting to look like she was on her cycle...

Before they would continue, Mathieu set off to looting any pieces of the dragon skeleton he could easily carry, as well as a couple scales that had somehow not dissipated when he absorbed its soul. Eola helped with this task. And as they did so, Mathieu explained to Shealyne, "You haven't seen falmer before, have you? I'm, not surprised. They live in the depths of caves and dwemer ruins. I've faced a few. But never, on the surface, outside... It is odd for them to be out here."

The Breton merely bounced the baby slightly, "I have never heard of them. I was going to try and tame it like a dog." The woman smiled slightly.

Mathieu snickered. Eola cracked a smiled. "I can only imagine what it would be like, keeping a falmer as a pet... Hah! Wouldn't that be a sight." She said.

"I do wonder if they would make good guard dogs. Per se... Hmph. Perhaps I should try it sometime."

"I was going to throw food at it, but then I forgot you had my satchel." The Sauveterre spoke to the man, still smiling slightly.

"Oh, yes. That might have worked... What would they eat? They've lived underground for millenia."

"Bugs? Mushrooms?... Dirt?" Eola chuckled, shaking her head, "Ah, what a strange diet they must have. I'm sure they'd be starving for some variety by now." Mathieu simply smirked, standing up and finishing looting the dragon before starting down the road. Eola continued, "Maybe that's why they left their caves. Hungry little things. Wanted to expand their palettes. Perhaps throwing an apple or a hunk of cheese would have done them good."

"I was going to throw meat at it." The Sauveterre shrugged her shoulders slightly as she began to follow her Brother.

The three resumed their walking as if nothing had transpired. Save for the load of dragon bones and scales Mathieu and Eola carried. They crossed a short bridge over the river, and the path would take them alongside it for a short time until it split, the left leading to Dragon Bridge.

Shealyne couldn't wait to get to Dragon Bridge. It meant she could rest. But, at the same time, it meant she was closer to Solitude, and thus, her mother. Lovely.

"What say you, Shealyne? Rest at Dragon Bridge, or travel farther, and go to Solitude?" Mathieu asked as they were crossing the great bridge into the settlement. He looked to the sky; it was late afternoon, the cusp of evening. Bellamont was sure they could make it to Solitude if they kept the pace they'd been going all day. But he wanted to know how Shealyne felt. His legs were aching. His feet were aching. The man was dead tired. Not that he'd show it.

"Dragon Bridge is fine." Was the woman's simple reply. She just couldn't wait to give her feet a break. And her arms a break.

The Sauveterre looked down at the child in her arms. The little girl was babbling softly to herself, chubby arms flailing and occasionally pointing to something she deemed interesting. The baby then looked to Shealyne, and blew a raspberry.

...ugh. Why did babies have to be so disgusting but adorable at the same time? Hopefully the baby would actually want to sleep throughout the night and not get fussy and cry.

Mathieu nodded. He also glanced down at the child, frowning ever so slightly...

* * *

**Thank you for reading thus far and have a good day! If you have an opinion on this crappy work, feel free to share it! **

**:D**


	6. Sleep Deprived

**Hello!**

**Longer chapter than last time. Thank you all for reading thus far!**

* * *

The inn was easy to spot; it was the largest building in this town... Well, it didn't qualify as a town, per se. It was just barely a village. Not even. The group entered into a quiet tavern.

Shealyne huffed slightly, "I am going to get a room before my arms fall off..." The Sauveterre murmured, beginning to walk towards the inn keep. She halted mid stride, and turned upon her heels, however, "Oh, Mathieu. My satchel, please."

Mathieu complied without a word, handing the vampire's bag back to her.

"Thank you." The woman smiled slightly, resuming her journey to the inn keep as she fished for coin in her satchel with her free hand. Ugh. She kept too much junk in this thing.

Eola and Mathieu stayed a ways behind Shealyne, stopping by the hearth as Eola glanced around and turned to the man. "This inn is quite... Unoccupied. I'm sure there'll be no trouble finding two available rooms..." Her voice steadily rose as the cannibal spoke, her next words right within Shealyne's earshot, "... Unless you'd like to share a room."

That, and her fingers caressing Mathieu's face - Ring of Namira cold against his cheek - made the man flush a little, though he scowled. Eola chuckled.

Upon hearing Eola's words, Shealyne felt herself turn cold, and in her rush of fear and concern, almost dropped in the infant. Almost. Rather, her hands trembled to such an extent that the coins she had within her grasp slipped right through her now clumsy fingers.

The Breton bent down, and try and she might, she simply failed to grasp and hold the septims as her feminine hand twitched and trembled. It was an odd feeling. The feeling of having her face flush. She wasn't sure if she could do that as mortals could, but it sure felt like it.

But it also confirmed her fears. And bending down, staring at the ground, and trying to pick up the coins like a clumsy child was a simple evasion mechanism to avoid looking at them. Mainly so they would not see herself fighting against crying.

Eola observed Shealyne out of the corner of her eye. She smirked, and stared at Mathieu, who's brows knitted together in worry as he too observed Shealyne fumbling for her coins.

"No." He said. "I believe I'll just get a separate room..."

Eola nodded, accepting. But she looked at his troubled expression. Stood up on her toes so that she was almost level with the tall breton, and pressed her lips to his ear, whispering something. Mathieu smiled for a scant second - and winked at her. He then broke off and went up to the counter beside Shealyne to pay the innkeep. "Need help?" Mathieu asked. Though, it was a question not to be answered, as he already knelt down and started to help the vampire retrieve her coins.

Shealyne went to say no, but she was tongue tied, and did not trust her voice to sound like a whimpering puppy. Her hands merely shook as she awaited the coins that had fallen. Babies were at least good for something. The woman had been using the baby's head to smear a hot tear that was running down her face.

Ugh. She was such a pussy. She should have known better than to get her hopes up.

"...You can share with me. If you want..." The Sauveterre doubted she would sleep at all, anyway. Though she didn't know why she spoke as such. She just did.

"Hm. Erm. Sure. Certainly." Bellamont cursed himself for stammering. Though it was more out of being stunned from such a sullen tone Shealyne suddenly took. He handed the coins back to the vampire, grabbing her trembling hand and squeezing it into a fist so she wouldn't drop them again.

"...Thank you." Shealyne wasn't expecting that answer. But at least it made her feel better. It was strange. To feel his hand on hers. Nice, almost comforting. Shealyne assumed no matter how old she got, she would always be just a damn little girl. It was vexing. Beyond vexing. Most of the time, she was known for being emotionally callous. But with Mathieu, that hardness flew right out the window. It was a bit funny, if she thought about it. Bellamont could literally make a god weak. Pfff. Some Daedric Prince she was.

The baby babbled happily. She attempted to help the pair pick up the coins. If by 'attempted' one meant the infant tried to pick up the pretty shiny things just so she could try and eat them.

The Sauveterre then slowly rose to her feet, struggling slightly as a leg cracked. She was getting too old...despite never aging.

With her hand still curled into a fist-as if a wax mold-the woman then proceeded to pay for a room at last, getting the key.

Shealyne figured there was one good thing about only having one eye. She could cry fifty percent less. Which made hiding the act much easier. Ha!

Mathieu decided to pay for Eola's room out of his pocket. He didn't care. It was only ten gold. And he had become quite secretly wealthy with the adventuring and jobs as both a Dawnguard and a Thane. The man then handed the key to Eola; she was looking on with indifference. Oh well. That just meant she couldn't sneak in to see him for one night. There was always other times. She whistled and hummed as she strode over to her room.

Shealyne fumbled with the key, but eventually opened the door and allowed her Brother to enter first. She wasn't sure what to say to him. She was pretty damn positive he was playing hanky fucking panky with that meat eating bitch.

Ugh...she should just stop thinking about bad things. A Daedric Prince shouldn't care about these things. Hmmmm. The Sauveterte wondered if she could curse Eola and make her a rotting corpse? That would be fun! Hmmmm. But would a Daedric Prince do that for no reason? Potentially...

Would Shealyne herself do that out of spite? Yes! But, no...that would be mean...but why should she care? No one cared about her. And Eola was clearly rubbing it in her face because Shealyne let herself be a pussy.

When they entered the room, Mathieu sat on a chair at the corner of the room, slouching over the table slightly with his arms crossed and propped up on it. He didn't speak first to Shealyne. But his expression wasn't unpleasant. He expected her to say something anytime now, or anytime before the night was over. Argue with him about the cannibalism. Argue with him about Eola.

Shealyne set the baby down, sighing slightly as she simply sat on the bed. She idly focused upon cleaning her wound, thinking. After a long time of silence, she spoke, tone soft, "Is it sad that I am still hopeful to start a family with you? A life? Of what we should have been?"

"... If anything? It is... Unexpected. I'm still puzzled as to why you seem to, care about me so much after all this time. Keeping my diary. My dagger... I'm puzzled as to why you care about me at all." After a moment, he questioned her bluntly, "You don't like Eola. Don't you? You're, jealous, of her? For some reason?"

Shealyne frowned slightly, "I love you because you are the only person to ever genuinely love me. Once upon a time, long ago. You were mine, but I was not truly yours. It was not fair. I abhor Eola because I am childish and petty. I want you to belong to me, and I to you. Truly you. Truly you, this time."

"I do not know why I beat myself down and push my emotions down like they do not matter. I do not know why I act like your emotions and wants are all that matters, and why I act like everything will be okay when it is not to me. Perhaps it is because you are my hero, and I would give anything to even just..." The woman shook her head, as if trying to think of the words, "Just know that I am doing something right for once in my life."

Shealyne then exhaled deeply, lips pressing together, "I do not know why I treat myself like shit. If anything, you should be thanking me. I did not have to be a mother to Runa. I was not expecting her. I was not prepared. I could have...have terminated it. Or, or just abandoned her. But I did not. I could not. Because she was the last piece of you that I had, and I tried to love her the best I could with what little I had. I tried to give her all my love that I neglected with you."

And then, she smiled, softly, sullenly, "She asked me why she did not you, once. She asked why you were not here. She asked why you did not love her. She asked if you were not around because you did not love her. I...I told her to never think like that. Never think that her father did not love her, not for a second. I told her that you loved her with all your heart. So much...that you sacrificed yourself because you loved us so much. I told her you would have given anything to be with us. I told her you were my hero...and then, then Runa just looked at me. Looked at me, and smiled. She said she wanted to be a hero, too. Just like you...I cried so much when she said that."

Shealyne frowned, rubbing her cheek as another tear began to fall, "I told her half lies. Half truths. And to her, knowing you loved her, and you being a hero was all that mattered to that little girl..."

"...Hero?" Was all Bellamont said. Once more he was struck silent by Shealyne's words, disbelieving. Fuck. It's only been two days since their reunion! His former lover must have been keeping this contained, all the things she was unable to say to him, for so long, too long. It must be painful... No, he knew it was painful. He wondered if she had felt as he has, living lifelessly in the Void, for the past two centuries? Nobody there but your memories and secrets, what could have been said and done? Nobody there to listen and understand?

Yet... He couldn't comprehend why, at the same time. She wasn't surrounded by nothing. She had the ability to live, and move on. Admittedly the man would have killed to be in her place. Be undead, ironically, if only to live.

"You, thought me a hero? She thought me a hero? Not... A murderer? An assassin? Taker of lives?" Mathieu said. It was indiscernible, his tone. He got up from his seat and slowly joined Shealyne on the bed. "There was someone I spoke with a month ago. He was a Greybeard, one of those old men on the mountain of High Hrothgar, revered and powerful in this land. He said I was chosen by the gods. That I was brought here to confront this dragon threat. But he also KNEW me. He did not say it, but he knew it. Somehow. What I had done with the Brotherhood...

"And you, of course, know... Does she know? Runa?... And you truthfully see me as a hero? She does, too?... You two didn't see me as a murderer? A traitor? Destroyer of a family?... I wasn't just some, pitiful waste?... Truthfully?"

Ah, truth, truth, truth... He wished there was another way to show that she's honest besides just words. He wanted so bad to know about Runa, too... If Shealyne had told her the truth at one point...

Shealyne frowned, listening to the man speak and ask questions. Hot tears idly rolled down a cheek as she lightly caressed the man's jaw with her fingertips, guiding him to look upon her. The woman's sole eye was alight with what looked like mini stars. Though that was mainly due to the candlelight and her tears. Slowly, gently, tenderly did she press her own tear streaked lips against his own. The kiss was simple, slow and thoughtful. Patient, loving and tender. Yet longing and sorrowful.

Slowly, regretfully, hesitantly did the woman break the kiss, her lower lip trembling as her breath hitched, "Mathieu...never say you are a waste. You are not. And you never will be. Not to me. You saved me from that hell. From many hells. And now you saved me from one I never knew I was in. You saved me from drowning in time. Where everything changes but I stay the same, and I can scream and scream and scream but no one will listen. And if they do listen, no one will understand. It is like I am speaking a foreign language, about a time and place that never existed, as if it were just a dream or a memory. You are my hero...and Runa believed you were one, too. She believed you were one for so very long, my love..."

The woman faltered, attempting to collect herself, to speak, but unsure how, "I fucked up, Mathieu. I fucked up when I was not fully honest to you in the past. And I promised myself to tell you nothing but the truth...but I am afraid you will just react like my husband did, and I would have fucked up all again, even when I think I am doing the good-right thing..." Shealyne had to fight to keep herself collected, sniffing as her lips pressed together tightly in a thin line, "Runa saw you as a hero. But after she...after she found your diary, I do not know what she thought...she ran away...she knew what you were..." The Breton's voice was soft and broken, Shealyne putting her own head in her hands.

Mathieu lingered just an inch away from her face, after the kiss, gazing into her tear-glazed eyes the whole time she spoke. He had many things to say, but he couldn't form the words. Unlike her. At least she attempted to. In a way he envied her for expressing herself so freely; he could never begin to describe all the things festering in his mind, save for in his diary. Even that didn't fully work. He wished to talk. He wished for her to talk. Talk until the sun comes up! They still had so much to let off their chests! So many truths they needed to tell each other!...

Bellamont sighed. "... I'm so sick of uncertainty, Shealyne. It's all I've been dealing with, ever since I, came back... Every day. I, I don't know how or why I'm alive! I just want certainty. Assurance... I just want someone that will give me answers... Give me truth. I'll forgive you. I'll, love you... But only if you promise me that: the TRUTH. After tonight, that's all I want to hear from you. From now on... That's what, normal lovers are to do, yes? Be honest with each other?"

The Sauveterre slowly raised her head from her hands, looking upon her Brother. She sat upright, at attention and listening closely to his words. Shealyne just looked upon Bellamont, wiping her cheek with a back hand and smearing away the rolling tear, "I...I promise. I will give you the truth. Now, and forever...I just ask that you will not be like the others. Do not become like them...please. My heart is yours, Mathieu. Please do not break it. Even though it does not beat, it still feels pain."

Mathieu briefly wondered what she meant by that, if she was just referring to her husband or friends or something else, but did not dwell on it for long. Soon he leaned in to give his own kiss. Long, slow and sweet, he turned and snaked his arms around Shealyne, around her waist. It was awhile before he broke away, if only to catch his breath.

"And, I promise, too... To, try. Try not to. I, don't know how to... Control, myself, sometimes. But I'll try. For your sake." Mathieu said. He couldn't help but smile. Ah, this felt nice. "... But. The night is ours. What do you suppose we do with it... Love?"

Shealyne's face appeared to be permanently molded into a smile at this point, her arms wrapping around Bellamont's neck. The Sauveterre tenderly kissed the man's cheek before her own nuzzled against his, "That is alright, Mathieu. All I ask is that you try."

The Breton then pulled herself back, if ever so slightly as she laughed gently, "I fear copulation will have to be saved for another night, given our drooling company, no?" Though Shealyne hadn't been paying much attention to the toddler. Which meant the baby was either sleeping or in trouble.

"Waiting will make the loving ever sweeter until your body softly glides over mine, no?" The woman questioned in a soft purr, tone low and sultry.

...Right. He forgot about the child. Much too occupied in this little talk they were having. "Oh? Mm, of course." Mathieu mumbled, holding the vampire closer.

"Disappointed?" Shealyne questioned with a light laugh, smoshing herself against the man's form, "You are very good at the romance. It is beautiful."

It was so strange. In her Brother's arms, it felt like nothing else mattered. There was no fear or fret or worry. It was all just...gone. It was wonderful. She hoped Mathieu felt the same. Perhaps this is what it felt like to be loved, accepted and understood?

The woman then shifted to rest her head upon Mathieu's chest, an arm moving to rub and massage the man's shoulder, "Your heartbeat is strong..."

It was blissful, having her form against his. Having the former fires with his lover, rekindled. Resolved. After two days of uncertainty; hopefully any other doubts between them later would be resolved just the same? Ah, he didn't want to think of tomorrow. Just this once. He just wanted the simple pleasure of closeness.

"Does it, surprise you?... It must be strange, not feeling it in your own chest..."

"I think...it is sad." Shealyne spoke, resuming to massage his shoulder, and simply listen, "Sad, because with each beat you are ever inching closer to death again. But I am as well, even though I do not have one. It is sad, but it is also beautiful."

The Sauveterre then moved to deliver another kiss to her partner, the sign of affection slow, tender and loving. The kiss did not last long, and while the Silencer pulled away, she was only an inch apart from Mathieu's face, if that. She smiled, tone soft, as if a whisper, "You put a new heartbeat into me. Runa's heartbeat. And I could feel her heart, pulsing and warm, and strong. Like yours. She was my heart. Same as you."

Mathieu merely pulled her face barely an inch closer, noses touching, his forehead pressing against hers.

"How so, are you inching towards death?" She was probably just referring to him and Runa, in a way, from her words. But he was somewhat curious. And paranoid.

The Sauveterre smiled, nuzzling her forehead lightly against her lover's. One of her hands moved to reach for his, seeking to interlock his fingers with hers, "Vampires do not live forever, Mathieu. We always fall to hunters."

The woman's eye looked onto the man's gaze with the best of her ability, body shifting against his to get more comfortable, "It must be so strange, being in love with an undead, hmm?"

Mathieu took her hand, entwining their fingers. Though he swallowed hard. Frowned for a second at her words. Yes. Of course they fell to hunters. And as he was ordered he was to bring about her fall. If not, his order would, anyway. "Yes... That's true..." He said. "But I suppose I haven't thought of it that way. Not after awhile, at least. Vampires are just..." He pursed his lips, and thought better of it.

"Disgusting?" Shealyne frowned slightly, though guided Mathieu's hand towards their level. The woman turned her head, and caresses each of his knuckles with her lips, "I thought about it. I wanted it. To be human again. I had the cure in my hands, all those years ago. I was doing to take it. But then I saw what it did the Count's wife. In Skingrad. It killed her. I was too afraid to die to risk the cure."

Mathieu shifted a little uncomfortably; he didn't want to reveal just how much he abhorred her species now.

"Hm. I'd say it is fortunate you did not cure yourself. Lest we not be here, right now. Do you still have those thoughts, of being human, again? Or... Are you content?"

Shealyne smiled slightly, "I think vampirism...hmmmm, I think any suffering has been worth it, if it means getting to this moment. Being in your arms again."

"But, I am content to be like this, now, until I do die. Vampirism has saved me many times. Even during birth. It is just strange." The Sauveterre exhaled.

Mathieu gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Then... I suppose that is all that matters." A little tired of this position, the man fell back on the bed and pulled Shealyne down with him. "I never believe vampires could bear children, in the first place... How were you saved during that? What conditions that would typically kill the mother, it didn't kill you?"

Shealyne smiled at the small kiss, shifting slightly as she got comfortable in her new position. She briefly burried her head in the crook of Mathieu's neck, planting a kiss upon the skin and taking the time in inhale her lover's scent, "...I thought vampires could not have children. But I did hear of male vampires having children with mortal women. Another why I heard is that women become a Daughter of Cold Harbor and somehow end up with a half vampire baby."

"But, I have small birthing hips. Apparently. So..." The woman took a hand and curled up her fingers save for her thumb. She lowered her hand to her hips. The scar, she realized, was hidden by her Forsworn undies, if ever so slightly. Shealyne slightly rolled them down, and there was a large horizontal scar that ran from one side of her pelvis to the other. The woman dragged her thumbnail across the scar, as if in a cutting motion.

She figured Mathieu saw it already. She was certainly naked enough. But then again she was pretty sure he wasn't staring at her hips the whole time.

"... Ah." Was all Mathieu said. He seemed to be understanding, though.

"If there anythng you would want to talk about, Mathieu?" The woman figured she had done quite a lot of talking, not that she minded. This was nice. Beyond nice. Beyond wonderful.

Shealyne her head to briefly look for the infant. She released a snorted laugh at finding the baby asleep upon the floor, butt in the air. Babies had such strange sleeping positions.

Mathieu glanced up to look upon the infant, too. "Pff." He ran a hand up Shealyne's back, around her shoulders, and propped his chin up on her head. He stared at the door, as if expecting something. Or just lost in thought. "... I was, wondering. You've kept my diary. My dagger. Did you keep any other possessions of mine? Did you... Did you keep her?... Mother?"

The woman took her time to press her feminine form against Bellamont's more masculine one. It felt so wonderful to have his hands upon her. As her one hand once more rubbed and massaged his shoulder, her other hand began to slowly, hesitantly slip passed the man's robes. While she knew there was layers, she simply wanted to touch his skin as he was doing her with the whore-ish excuse of armor she had on.

Despite her wandering hand adventures, Shealyne slowly nodded, "Yes. I did. I just...knew she was important to you. And I did not know what would happen to her if I just left her in your home."

Bellamont, despite his will not to, visibly shivered at Shealyne's touch, her hand gliding over his skin. More so out of surprise - but really unwelcome. He smiled,

"Good... Is she still with you, then, somewhere safe? Where is she now?"

"She is safe in a chest in Cyrodiil. Along with other things." The woman nodded, hand still lightly trailing along his skin, simply feeling and exploring. The Sauveterre began to tenderly kiss her Brother's neck once more, tongue gently gliding upon the skin.

Mathieu nodded, and let out a relieved sigh. Good to hear his mother was taken care of... Hopefully she was fully preserved? Wait, did he ever tell her how to preserve mother? What oils to use, what conditions she needed to be in? Oh, he hoped mother hadn't rotten into a mere skull, locked away in some cramped, dark box somewhere a province away... But at least she was somewhere. At least.

"Ah, good, good... Perhaps we should return to Cyrodiil some day? I'd love to see mother once more..." He said. Though a chill ran up him again at her contact. Damn her. Bellamont pulled away, just a bit, to poke her nose teasingly as if a parent scolding a child, "You're getting a little too, intimate, love... A little further and I might just have to comply..."

The woman simply smiled, a fang poking out as she gently grabbed Mathieu's poking hand, her fingertips light against him, "Awe...and we would not want that, would we?" The Breton's tone was a low purr, smooth and sultry. It was then she stuck the poking finger into her mouth, careful of her fangs, gentle yet firm in her sucking, tongue twirling and massaging in tease. The act was short lived, and the woman produced a soft pop as she released the captive finger, smiling.

"But it would be nice. To return to Cyrodiil. She is buried at my old home that I lost to trolls." Shealyne spoke. Those hairy fuckers, "They are probably still there."

Mathieu's whole face flushed at the suggestive act, his breath hitching. "Fucking tease..." He grumbled. Nine Divines. What a touch-starved bastard he must've seemed right now. He probably was. Not that he'd admit it.

Though he frowned at her statement. "Oh. I do hope they haven't, desecrated your home..." They likely did. "... And her. We could investigate sometime, and clear them out if the trolls are still there."

Shealyne smiled, laughing upon her Brother's face reddening in flush, "Oh, you are so adorable! A shame I like to tease you...I guess it is true what they say: vampires sucks whilst cannibals eat, hmm?" The woman did attempt to wink. But having one eye, it was just a blink. Oh, the downsides of only having one eye.

"But, I would like that, sometime. When both of us have the time. I am sure your mother would like that, love."

Bellamont bit his lip. Ohh, the mental images! He blinked a couple times, clearing his mind. "By the Nine, I swear..." He growled, then exhaled, "... But yes, I hope she will. I'm, uncertain, though..."

The Sauveterre cocked her head slightly, "Why is that?"

As she awaited an answer, Shealyne once more neared Mathieu, and gently bit the tip of his nose. She stiffed her laughter into a giggle, "'Ook, Matty. I-mmm a cana-ball!" The woman resumed to chuckle, before letting the tip of his nose go.

Mathieu chuckled with her, but only for a second as he thought of a response, and his eyes downcast.

"Mother hasn't been speaking to me." He said, bluntly. "Ever since I was, resurrected, she's become ever, and ever unresponsive... I think she's angry with me. And, I'm not sure why, yet. She hasn't answered."

Shealyne knitted her brow together in slight worry, "Perhaps she misses you? And she cannot speak with you because you are not speaking directly to her relic-her head?"

... Relic? Hmph. Mother wasn't a relic, an item... "I'm unsure. That is what I hope to find out, when we go to Cyrodiil. Eventually. If she doesn't speak to me then, well... Then she is irate. About something. My failures. My, cannibalism. Or my Dragonborn status - that seems most likely..."

"Maybe she is mad because you are not happy? I want nothing more than for my children to be happy." Shealyne suggested, "When would you like to go? Not in a while, no?"

Mathieu just frowned at her suggestion, obviously still doubtful. It seemed the topic was closed by his silence. "Perhaps... After Solitude. And travel to Falkreath. I wish to find and strike at the Sanctuary soon, though, it may take some time to plan my attack. Cyrodiil borders the region of Falkreath, hm? We could go either before or after that, depending on."

The man then smirked, planting a kiss on her temple, "Thank you, for forcing the information out of that assassin. It's riveting, the thought of it; I haven't taken down a whole sanctuary in a long time! Do you still plan to aid me, then?"

"Well, after Solitude, I was hoping to return to Whiterun to check on the twins. I think it is best not to tell them of you. They may get mental scaring." The Breton laughed lightly, "If your planning takes a bit long, perhaps you can tell me when you are ready by letter? If I have not made my way to Falkreath by then. I will assume I have."

The woman smiled at the kiss, and returned her own by planting her lips upon Bellamont's cheek, "Though you are welcome, love. You are just lucky I can get creative, no? Very creative." Shealyne purred slightly, though her tone returned to normal as she spoke next, "Of course I will help you. A creative slaughter, no? Full of blood, corpses and sweat..."

"Yes, that would be fine. Though, I'll have you know the twins were already, entertaining, that idea of me and you, copulating, when you were in the bath. Conner in particular did not like that. It was humorous." Mathieu's smirk was even wider... Now that he thought of it - he'd technically be their stepfather now, wouldn't he? Hah! "... But, certainly. We'll have a grand time... Worthy of a poem. It is good to know, I am not alone now. In this endeavor."

Shealyne laughed, "Oh, no. Poor Connie...he is such a mother's boy, no? The poor boys. But alas, you and I have not copulated yet. A shame, hmmm? The last time I was with a man was..."

The Sauveterre paused to think. And then her brows furrowed as she began to really think.

And then she blinked. Ohhh. It was that long already? That...that was sad. And embarrassing.

"Uhhhh. Er. Actually...do not laugh or make fun of me. It was you. Minus the wolf rape." The woman cleared her throat. Rather than having her cheeks flush, they simply paled as a sign of embarrassment.

Mathieu shook his head. Pressed her face into his neck and ran his fingers through her auburn hair, tsking, "...Tch. Don't feel ashamed. Albeit, I haven't lived for two centuries, but the last time a had the company of a woman, was you. It does not matter. Really. You just hadn't found someone worthy of your time... And love."

Shealyne merely sighed, nuzzling herself into the man's neck, which she lightly kissed, "And what Eola said? Was she just saying that to hurt me, of you and she?"

Hmmm. Maybe Eola was just jealous? Huh. Mathieu was more popular than the Sauveterre thought. Probably.

Regardless, the woman wrapped her arms around Bellamont in a hug.

"I... Yes. I believe she said that, to see how you would react. Yet I don't think it was out of spite, jealousy, either... We're merely friends, Shealyne." Mathieu said.

Shealyne chose not to respond. Rather, she hugged the man more firmly, once more kissing his neck, since she was still wedged against his neck. Not that she minded.

Mathieu was slightly puzzled by her silence - did she need more reassurance? Her embrace and kisses seemingly told him otherwise. He could admit to her, be honest just like he wanted her to be, but decided to wait. See what the vampire said next.

The woman exhaled, "Mathieu, if there is something, just...will it stop? Now that you and I are...or will I have to look the other way? Or will you just lie and tell me there is nothing when there is every day?"

"I understand if you are still mad at me, and may want me to feel the pain you did, but...I just want the truth. Please? And if what you are saying is the truth, then I am sorry for being petty and jealous."

"Yes. The truth. It is only right I be honest, if you are to be honest with me, hm?" Mathieu took a moment to deliberate. "... Yes, I do fancy Eola. I fancy her, because in my time alive again, she is the only one to know me. Was. To personally know. My secrets; about mother, the brotherhood. She was the only one I could confide in. And she'd accept me. She accepted me, when Maria didn't. She accepted me... Just like you did. So I, grew fond of that connection again, and thus, her...

"But that is it. A mere fondness. A small attraction. We never elaborated on it. We've never bedded. I'm not certain if she reciprocates... And I assume it doesn't matter now, if she did."

It felt... Relieving, somehow, to confess something so candidly. So honestly. Though he knew if he was to keep this mutual honesty between them, he'd have to confess some less savory things. The fact he was a vampire hunter, that he was tasked to kill her; that he hid his cannibalism from her in his past life. Hopefully she'd be as pleasant as she was this moment, when that time came.

"But she does not know that you...came back, correct?" Shealyne questioned, "Thank you, Mathieu. I should apologize to Eola. Apologize for acting like a child."

The woman exhaled, "I am sorry. I do not have much of a problem with your cannibalism, either. I do, but then I do not. I was just jealous, a bit, but more so scared because you could share that with Eola. I was just afraid you would have changed too much, and it would be like...like you were a different person than the one I knew. And we would not be able to relate to anything anymore. I do not care if you eat people. I just care that you eat innocent people. Thinks would probably be very different were those things never to happen to us-to me. The family and that farmstead. But the second time I encountered people like that-almost exactly like that...no."

Shealyne paused from her speaking to remove herself from Mathieu's neck so she could properly speak, "I heard a rumor, once, that a boy had broken his arm in a little hamlet, and he needed help. So, I went there to try and find this boy. I found no one there. I looked, and looked but there was not a soul. I went into this rickety old barn as night fell, and I saw, up on the croft, were doors. And there were children in them. They were alive, but, they were all wounded. I found the apparent boy, but, his arm was not broken. It was cut off. Hacked off. Some of the children had similar wounds. The boy said these...people would kidnap children, and kill the people-parents, friends, neighbors-who would go looking for them. They would eat them. And to draw in would be do gooders, they would start rumors of injured children. But clearly not all were rumors. They developed a taste for the young, but they would savor it. Ration it. By cutting off their limbs. The children knew they were coming, for they all ran and hid within their tiny rooms. There were about, ten-fifteen of these animals. I slew them all with their own torture weapons."

Shealyne looked at Mathieu, blinked, and then frowned slightly, "I do not know if there are good or bad cannibals, Mathieu. But if there are, I do not want you to be like them and hurt or eat innocent people."

"No. She's not aware of that." Mathieu said simply, as if he completely ignored what else she told him. But he hadn't. He mulled over it all, over and over, contemplating if he should once more confess to her now. She said she accepted it. But he still wasn't sure. The innocent people? He hadn't thought of it when he did it. Though he would know. He regretted it after he did it. But at the same time he wouldn't. It was... Complicated. It was frustrating! Nettling!

Bellamont sighed, loudly. "I apologize. I'm sorry, that you had to face such, depravity, again... You can trust that I wouldn't go to such lengths to be satiated..."

"It is fine, Mathieu. I just wanted you to know that." The woman exhaled slightly, "Ah, you do not mind that I take off this bra thing, no? The feathers are itchy."

"No. Of course not." Mathieu pursed his lips together.

The Sauveterre nodded in thanks, and briefly moved away from Bellamont to sit up. Her hands moved to untie the bra of feathers and course cloth...whatever else this mangled thing was made out of. Skin, probably. Though her lack of actually using a bra was showing, since her fingers fumbled around, seeking to try and undo the leather. Stupid feathers! It was a feat the woman even got this thing on without aid.

After struggling, the woman managed to removed the ratty material, attempting to fold it as best she could before placing it upon the end table.

Bellamont shifted, moving himself fully on the bed and crawling over to the pillows, lying back down on his side. He raised an arm, propped his elbow on the pillow, and rested his cheek on his palm as he watched Shealyne fight with the forsworn bra.

Once the woman placed the bra thing upon the end table, she noted Bellamont looked quite comfy, "Amused with my struggles, Mister Surly?"

Mathieu smirked. "A little."

"Furf." The woman produced the odd little noise, and simply joined to lay beside her Brother, facing him as she simply rested her head upon a pillow, an arm draping over her breasts to cover them from his view, "You sadist." Shealyne spoke in jest, smiling slightly.

"It hurts you?" Mathieu asked, eyes wandering down, then glancing back up to her face.

"I am sorry, I thought you were speaking to me and not my fat lumps called breasts." Shealyne replied, sticking her tongue out in play, "But, yes. It hurts my petty pride. Struggling so..." The Breton spoke in mock pout.

"Oohh, how proud one can become, knowing how to fasten a bra on and off..." The man's tone was bored.

"A man can boast about how fast he can undo them. I bet somewhere, out there, there is a Nord with a foolish name called...um...Ulfric the Untier of Bras." Shealyne laughed lightly, "Lucky for you, you only have my arm to worry about blocking your view."

"Pfft. Ulfric. Leader of rebellion. Killer of kings. Undoer of bras." Now Mathieu was just imagining strong, noble nord warrior Ulfric Stormcloak tip-toeing around Windhelm stealthily snapping off women's bras... He was tired, wasn't he? The man yawned. That was a yes - what time was it?

At Shealyne's statement, Bellamont reached his free arm out towards the vampire's, though very sluggishly, dramatically, "Oh, and I can just pull it away any second now, oh so easily. Try to stop me and my, unfathomable speed from revealing your breasts to me..."

Shealyne laughed even more at the man's antics. Were she mortal, her face would be flushed from laughing too much. Though her laugh was interrupted by a yawn. Oh, Sithis...what time was it? Shealyne wouldn't be surprised if it was almost morning and they had to leave soon.

Despite her brief yawn, her free hand moved to merely slap Bellamont's approaching hand away. Though it was a slow motion type slap, harmless, and one more out of play than anything, "Oh, noooo~You shall never get passed my defenses. My arm is made out of steel and will not budge..."

Mathieu merely attempted to reach for her again. "I'll use whatever is in my arsenal to infiltrate..." He then began prodding and poking her arm with a fingernail.

"What an impressive arsenal..." The Silencer drawled, though despite that, she was smiling, as she simply allowed her arm to be bullied, "And what do you plan to accomplish if my arm of steel moves?"

"Why, to glimpse a breast, of course! Why else would I try so hard?" Mathieu smiled, cheekily, continuing to poke Shealyne's arms as if he was trying to press a button to move it. He looked at her through half-closed eyes and wiggled his eyebrows at her. As if that too would will her to move her arm. For some reason.

Gods, he needed sleep. Apparently. He was only like this when he got no sleep... Most of the time. And he was annoying himself by how he was acting.

Shealyne would have responded sooner, if she wasn't so busy producing a breathless chuckle, "What the...I think you need sleep, Matty..." It was then another breathless, almost soundless laugh came from her. What happened to the surly man she knew? Mathieu was...anti-Mathieu.

Oh, but it did feel damn good to laugh so hard at a sleep deprived man...eh. She could at least humor him.

"Well..." The woman started, though laughed lightly once more. Sithis! She wished she knew how to wiggle her eyebrows like that..., "Since your arsenal is clearly one of potency-opps! Look what you made me do!" Shealyne exclaimed on mock shock. To which she simply moved her arm, exposing said breasts, "Ta~daa!"

...oh, Sithis...she needed sleep...she was acting...not normal.

"-Oh! Myy..." And Bellamont simply proceeded to peer at them. Not really an expression of excitement, nor one of disappointment. Just a calm, almost dazed look. Thoughtful. As if reflecting on deep inner workings and purposes and meanings unknown to the conscious mind. Because apparently he could try to discover the meaning of life by looking at some tits.

Then the man blinked. Shifted his gaze to Shealyne, "Alright. I've glimpsed them. I received what I wanted. Do what you wish now."

"Sleeeppp..." Was the Breton's tired response, followed by a yawn as she arched her back to crack it. The Sauveterre then rolled onto her side, facing towards her bedmate, "You are very easy to please..."

Shealyne was then fighting against sleep. And she was losing terribly. She would have attempted to kiss her Brother goodnight...or good morning, whichever it was, but that was far too much effort for her, "...Goodnight, Mathieu...love youuu..."

The woman's goodnight almost instantly turned into a light snore, and for all intents and purposes, Shealyne was dead to the world.

All Mathieu could muster for movement was to sidle closer to the vampire and drape an arm over her form. His eyelids were heavy, and he quickly began to nod off... Until he heard something. A clink of metal, wood creaking. Perhaps the innkeep or some other patron, harmless and quiet, yet it was enough to pierce the silence and make Mathieu jerk his head over to their door. Nothing there! So he started to sleep...

But his mind wouldn't let him; it was slowly rousing, racing, after hearing that sound. The man fixed to the door. He wondered if someone would try and get in... Where was his dagger?... Good, right there... He gripped it tight and held it under the pillow. Better to be safe. One mistake and all would turn black... He didn't want to see the black again... He didn't want to sleep...

The Sauveterre remained oblivious in her sleep, snuggling up to the body of warmth that was her bedmate.

Mathieu was eventually able to rest, though for only a short time, as it was the cusp of morning when he fell asleep and soon the small sounds of activity from outside the room woke him. He got up, stretched, and walked out the door. The man had chose to let Shealyne sleep for a little longer.

The vampire would remain sleeping. She would only be woken up by the sounds of a very awake and babbling baby, which wanted food.

"Ugh..." She didn't want to get up. But she had to. The Breton was too lazy to put her armor-bra on. Rather, she stuffed it into her satchel and pulled out her Silencer robe, which she put on to cover herself. Yay for robes!

It was not long before the Sauveterre made her way out into the inn, toddler waddling behind her, holding the woman's hand.

Mathieu and Eola had been eating, talking, at one of the tables when Shealyne had appeared. "Morning..." Eola drawled. Mathieu flashed Shealyne a passing smile as a sort of greeting.

"I'm, still surprised you've kept those robes." Mathieu said, "Still in good condition, as well..."

"Good morning, Eola." The woman returned the greeting, returning a soft smile to her Brother.

The Sauveterre sat down at their table, hoisting the toddler upon her lap. The baby's chubby arms flailed, and she blew a spit bubble, which caused her to laugh.

"I have grown very fond of these robes. They have several uses." Shealyne spoke, digging through her satchel and producing a piece of cheese.

The baby's eyes went wide, and her stubby fingers reached up for the food, "Eeee! Eeeee..."

"Yes, yes, I know..." The Silencer murmured, breaking off a tiny piece, which she held out for the child, "Here. Eat this and get constipated."

The baby greedily grabbed the piece of cheese in her tiny hand-and like before-she promptly shoved her food, fist and all, into her mouth, "Mmmmm..."

"... Hm. My robes were tarnished, I'm afraid... They were barely tattered rags... A shame. These don't bear as useful enchantments. They don't bear any..." The man tugged a bit at his own, plain black robes.

Eola watched the toddler as Shealyne fed her, "Well, at least you won't have to take care of the child any longer than today..."

"Any?" The Sauveterre questioned, "You can have them be enchanted, no?"

Shealyne's attention was briefly divided as the toddler lightly slapped a small hand upon the table, wanting to be fed faster. The woman sighed, "No. Finish what you have, first."

Ugh. Greedy little shit...

"But, that is a good thing, at least. Taking care of children is hard and tiring, even if she is cute." And Shealyne had the baby for a day, not even, and she was done. Sithis, how did she do it with her kids?

"Of course. But I'm afraid my enchanting skills, aren't up to par with whomever of the Black Hand imbued the robes..."

Hm. For how much he loathed the Brotherhood, at least they made good equipment. Bellamont then gazed at the baby with the two women. "It is a wonder how you were able to put up with three... The first two twins, nonetheless..."

He never thought of raising twins, really. He imagined one child to be enough at one time. Twins? Even more? Terrifying. They'd probably raise a second Oblvion Crisis, per se. He'd have to question Shealyne on how stressed she was taking care of Aiden and Connor... And apparently she was still taking care of them today, by what she's said. Hah!

"Ugh. My tits were never free. We were not expecting twins. But it happened. It...was not as bad as it could have been. Guilbert helped a lot, and each of us took care of a child."

"...Oh." Was all Mathieu said, as if disappointed.

"Ah. That reminds me. My mother is in Solitude. So forgive me if I suddenly flee. She just prattles on and on about marriage." The Sauveterre spoke.

"Your, mother?" Mathieu's brows kitted together. Was her whole family vampires? Her mother, at least? He couldn't clearly recall if Shealyne had talked much about her family at all to him, much less note vampirism was present before her... "Why would she, prattle on about marriage to you?..."

"Because she is a miserable old shrew who has recently welcomed me back into the fold after disowning me. Which means she has a plan for me. And judging by the letters, it is marriage...uh, arranged. But I cannot get married if she cannot find me, no?" Shealyne questioned, attempting to joke. But she frowned, despite the attempted jest.

Mathieu scowled. "Truly?... Tch. You ran from them because of the marriage bed... And yet she ropes you back in and expects you to comply this time?"

"Apparently so. My dowry must be very high for a suitor to even be interested." The Sauveterre shrugged.

Mathieu just shook his head. The thought enraged him, and try as he might not to make it visible, it was painted clear on his face. Eola noticed his expression and smirked.

"Hmph. Have you tried convincing her you do not want it? Or does she insist?"

"She does not care. Daughters are not loved. They are just property and pawns." Shealyne shrugged her shoulders.

Eyes narrowing further, Mathieu scoffed, "... That is wrong! No mother should treat their child like an item... Some disposable..." The man took a moment of silence, then he said, his voice a bit calmer, "Do you know your mother's usual, haunts in the city? A home? We could stay beside each other, and if she appears, I could try and make your encounter more, tolerable..."

Funny how he was discussing this as if he was trying to make an evasion or attack plan on some cave beast.

"Oh, that is easy. The Dour. Or the Blue Palace place." Shealyne nodded, "Uhhh...or the fancy clothing place."

"Ah. So, the typical noble areas? Lucky, we don't have any business at those - though I'll still be with you, in the chance we do pass her." Mathieu said, standing up. He peered at the tavern door. "Well. If you two are ready..." Eola followed him suit and was already sauntering towards the entrance.

Shealyne got up to her feet, toddler in her arms, "My hero, yes?" The woman spoke in slight tease, though smiled in thanks as she followed.

"As you've stated I am..." Mathieu stopped to let Shealyne pass - if only to plant a kiss on her cheek. Eola, waiting by the door, watched. As they exited the inn and onto the road en route to Solitude Eola would soon suggest with a little smirk -

"Shealyne... Perhaps it would be a nice jab in the eye to your mother to tell her you're already engaged?... Or would that bring about a hostile reaction?"

The red head smiled at the display of affection. Yay affection! She was not used to it!

Though at Eola's suggestion, the woman paused in thought, "...Hmmmm...possibly hostile. Or she will just ignore it."

Eola snickered, "It's a nobility thing, isn't it? What about if you tell her the man you're marrying is of powerful blood, and in good possibility of being a lost descendant of a family of Emperors, hmmm?" A sly smile tugged at her lips as she looked to Mathieu, who's eyes widened as he peered over his shoulder at her. Though she couldn't truly discern how he felt.

Shealyne pressed her lips together in thought, "Well...it would certainly be a risk for her to take...but it could prove to be a risk that is far outweighed by the rewards. If it is true..."

Hmmm, "Being engaged to a person like that, without aid, would probably be the first time my mother would actually be proud of me." But Shealyne doubted it. She was positive Elizabeth didn't have emotions. At least good ones.

"Well then? It's worth a try, I'd say. Even it is a lie." Eola was still eyeing Bellamont as she said this.

"Hmmmm. I guess that is true." Shealyne murred, falling into thought. As she dwelled, she lightly bounced the baby, making her babble happily.

The route to Solitude proved quite short. As Mathieu, Eola, and Shealyne entered Skyrim's capital of the Empire, Mathieu asked Shealyne, "So... First order of business? Do you wish to, bring the child to the Temple, now? Or do you wish to wait?"

"The Temple first, please. My arms are tired. She can keep my shirt as a token." Shealyne spoke. That, and she didn't want her shirt back after it was against baby butt.

"... Right." Mathieu turned to Eola, "Whilst we head to the temple, you could start searching for information on, Dead Man's Respite. Ask around... If you wish. I, doubt you want to go with us."

"Into a Temple of Divines? Oh. Probably not. Ha!" Eola replied. Her thumb spun the Ring of Namira on her finger. She nodded, and went her separate ways into the crowd.

"Good luck." The woman called to Eola, beginning to make her way to the Temple. Or at least the general direction of one, "Thank you, Mathieu."

"... For what, might I ask?" The man questioned.

"For wanting to be with me should I see Mother. Or, rather, should she see me." The Sauveterre responded, smiling slightly at her Brother.

"It is no problem, Shealyne." Bellamont leaned down and kissed Shealyne lightly on the temple. "... So, is your whole family stricken with vampirism? Or only your mother? I, don't believe you've told me much about them, in the past."

And that was probably for good reason.

Shealyne smiled, standing on her tip toes to tender kiss the man's cheek, "As far as I know, just my mother and sister. I found out they were such-and thus very much alive-not long ago."

"Ah. And what, strain? Same as you? Or that, Nox strain you spoke of?" He made sure to be talking in a hushed tone, as to not arouse any passing ears.

"The stronger one." Shealyne spoke softly, "I do not know how it happened."

Mathieu arched a brow. "Huh, that is interesting... To have them turn at a different time than you, a different strain. I haven't heard of such a, case, with a family... And it was a coincidence? Not, connected to you and your vampirism, you think?" As he spoke, he frowned slightly. My, he was questioning her quite a bit. Hopefully she wasn't nettled by this.

"I do not think it would be connected, no. I have not seen my family in two hundred years...well, minus my mother and sister as of late. But I simply thought them dead and bones by now." The woman spoke, thinking, "I do not know how they became such, or when. It must have been at least a century ago."

"...That is strange."

On their way to the temple, they would walk past the fletcher's and blacksmith's and arrive at the courtyard of Castle Dour, where imperial soldiers trained.

Shealyne pressed her lips together, alert and cautious. Her mother could be here! Walk through any second! And from multiple areas as well! The woman clearly did not like this. She felt as if it was a killing field, and she, the prey. Her eye glanced around as best she could, her hold upon the baby tightening.

Mathieu didn't need to look at Shealyne for he himself to grow attentive; he acted as if he was observing the soldiers when he was scanning for Shealyne's mother.

Shealyne remained on edge. Despite the Dour's courtyard being but a short jaunt, to the Sauveterre, it felt like an eternity. Soon, however, they were nearing the end of the courtyard.

Ha!

Ha-ha!

They did it! They made it without seeing that-

It was then that the Dour door opened, Elizabeth appearing. If looks could kill, then Shealyne would have been dead. The seventy something year old woman with fine attire and greying blonde hair had a face that would give a baby nightmares.

Which was apparently true, since the infant within the red head's hold then began to cry, chubby cheeks flushing red.

Mathieu glimpse Shealyne's mother for a mere second before turning his head back to the direction they were heading, as if it were any other passerby. But it wasn't. He was quite sure that was Shealyne's mother, judging by Shealyne, and even more so, the baby. The baby was crying at the sight of her. That was funny. And the old hag was likely marching over and halting them any second now.

Shealyne was swift to follow Mathieu, and pulled up her hood to try and cover her face. Fuck! Why didn't she think of that sooner? Not that it mattered. The bitch could probably sense she was a vampire anyway.

"Shhhhh. Shhhhh. There, there." The Sauveterre cooed, rocking the baby lightly in an attempt to calm her.

The woman was focused of moving with haste, boots brisk in hitting the ground to flee. Until her hood was removed with force by an aged, bony hand. The hood was removed with enough force that her own robe had briefly choked her, and Shealyne was yanked backwards.

Elizabeth scowled, face etched into something akin to disappointment, "Shealynetta."

Despite the older woman's acknowledgement, she did not relent on the force of her hold.

At that Mathieu spun around to face the old woman. He didn't greet her, didn't show any disdain towards her, but reached to remove her bony hand from Shealyne. The man did not remark or introduce himself. He felt it wise to hold his tongue until absolutely needed.

Elizabeth scowled even more as she felt the man attempt to remove her grip. The old woman glared at Mathieu. It was quite clear she did not want to let go, "How dare such filth touch me. Begone. And take that screaming ape with you, boy. I have business with my daughter."

Although Mathieu let go, he did not take the newborn, and stuck by Shealyne's side.

Filth? Pah! Oh, the nerve of that woman... Yet he did not want to escalate a conflict right there - he could not. So he stated, as levelly as he could, "I'd rather not, ma'am... After all, from what I understand, this business would concern me just as well..."

The man felt tense after saying that. Who knew how this hag would react? Oh, kissing the asses of aggressors were always difficult...

Elizabeth stared at Mathieu. It was not a pretty stare. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. Suddenly, she released Shealyne, and like a terrified rat, the Sauveterre scurried a few steps away. She still chose to stay by her Brother's side, however.

"Explain." The old woman ordered, face seemingly stuck in a constant scowl. Or a look of constant constipation.

... Well Mathieu likely just put Shealyne in a place she didn't wish for. He cast the vampire a bit of an apologetic look, and looked on as if he awaited her approval, before shifting back to Elizabeth... She said it was worth a try. If it meant her mother would be less of nuisance on her, it was damn well worth a try, hm?

"Ma'am - Mrs. Sauveterre? I'm certain you'd rather, like to hear it from your own daughters lips than from some... Filth, like me, hm?"

Poor Shealyne. Put on the spot no matter what he could have said.

Elizabeth stared at Mathieu, then turned towards Shealyne.

The red head was tongue tied. What was she to say? She didn't know! She blanked! Blanking! Blanking! Her mind was blanking!

"U-uh...I, I...um..." Shealyne stammered, mind racing, trying to think of something to say. While the pause felt like an eternity to the Silencer, it was only but several seconds, "W-we are, uh, engaged? Engaged, yes. H...he is Dragonborn, yes? The bloodline of kings, no?"

Elizabeth resumed to scowl, staring at her daughter for a long time, before turning to look at Bellamont, "Is this true?"

"That it is. Dragonborn, royal blood, Thane of Whiterun." Mathieu said. He pulled Shealyne closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. Not much to prove their intimacy than to comfort the vampire.

Elizabeth stared at the pair for a long, long, time. Scowling. The woman clenched her jaw, then relaxed her jaw in thought. Debating. Calculating.

Shealyne remained tense. She knew the Dragonborn thing was true. But not the other stuff. That could have been all lies. But Mathieu was good at lying. Very good. She only hoped her mother would believe them. Not sense weakness. Not sense desperation. Not sense fear.

"Hmmmm...you could be speaking the truth, or...you could by lying." The old woman spoke, almost akin to an adder. Tempting. It was tempting. Very. Tempting.

"Perhaps..." Elizabeth started, then peered carefully at the child within Shealyne's arms. Very carefully. Too carefully. Her eyes flicked from the child, to Bellamont, then to Shealyne.

Hmmmm. The child looked nothing like them...

"Perhaps you yet may marry my daughter. If, you can prove to be more beneficial than her suitor." The vampire spoke.

Ah. Lovely. Competition. "Ah... Of, course. May I ask who this suitor could be?"

"A man by the name of Rufio Chezca." Elizabeth replied.

Shealyne frowned. Rufio? Nooooo. That was the same name of the man she made her first kill on for the Dark Brotherhood...and he was a killer and rapist...

"Ah. Well, I suppose I'll have to meet this man one day... Compare notes."

This was strange. Very strange. Mathieu was not one for nobility and yet it seemed he'll have to drag himself into the flock. If not, Elizabeth certainly would. And he didn't want marriage... Not yet. But he may as well be throwing himself into that, as well.

"That you should." The greying woman replied, "He is in the city as we speak."

"He is? Can I meet him once our business is concluded at the Temple?" Shealyne asked, Elizabeth raising a brow.

"Why would you wish to do that?"

"Can I not get to know my potential husband?" The Sauveterre questioned, frowning.

"What business do you have at the Temple?" Elizabeth questioned, wary.

The red head shifted slightly to put the toddler upon her hip, an arm still supporting, "To give this orphan to clergy, Mother."

Mathieu let the two women converse, silently pondering and deliberating.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in thought, "Hmmmm. Very well. I will be waiting, Shealynetta."

And as soon as those words left the greying woman's mouth, the younger Sauveterre turned on her heels, and walked away with haste.

Bellamont followed her closely.


	7. Game of Suitors

**Thank you for reading this story thus far! All characters belong to their rightful owners!**

* * *

Once they were a good distance away from the old woman, the man said, "I'm, sorry, if that was too sudden of me, to broach that lie... Merely trying to halt an argument before it begun."

Shealyne was silent for a bit, looking at the now calm baby, "It is fine. You were only trying to help. But, I will go with Mother to see this man. I was thinking. I will act as if I am infatuated with this man. In love with him, no? Even if you prove to be more beneficial than this other man, I fear Mother will put me with the one I do not like most out of spite. But...ugh. We should just leave. And never come to Solitude ever again. Ever."

This was stupid. And had too many risks.

"It is proving more trouble than worth... But hopefully, your mother will be less of a bother, once you - erm. Marry, someone..."

'But what if she puts you with him, simply because she chose him?' Was what Mathieu was about to say. Decided against it. She wouldn't want more possible risks to mull over.

At least they made it to the Temple. Which meant Shealyne could relieve one burden from her!

Shealyne simply remained silent, focusing upon lightly bouncing the baby, "You will take good care of my shirt, yes?" The Sauveterre questioned.

However, upon arriving at the Temple doors, Shealyne halted, and stared. She looked at the doors, then to the babbling toddler, then to her Brother, "Do you think I will turn to ash if I step inside?"

Mathieu smirked. "Is that a jest?... Pfft. Not to worry. I'm certain we'd both turn to ash in the sight of the divines..."

Though the thought that entailed did turn him to brooding for a moment.

"Hmmm. Unfortunately, I do not jest. But it is nice to know that I am not the only one with this crisis." Shealyne spoke, pressing her lips together. What if she did turn into ash the second she crossed those open doors?

"... If you wish, I'll deliver the child to the clergy." Mathieu held his arms out to Shealyne, awaiting for that little blob of drool to be accepted into them.

"Oh? You will? How sweet." The Sauveterre replied, carefully distributing the little bundle of babbles into the man's awaiting arms, "I will not forget your sacrifice if you burst into flames." Shealyne spoke in jest.

The infant produced a gummy smile, drool illuminating her chubby chin. A tiny hand lightly rested upon Mathieu's shoulder, her fingers gripping upon his attire.

The vampire briefly looked at the baby, before planting a soft kiss upon her brow, "Goodbye, little one. Good luck." The woman smiled, a bit sullenly. Damn, that little girl was adorable! And she was already attached! It made her sad. Still, it was for the best.

... Oh my. The drool was getting over his robes now, the baby cuddling up close to him. And he thought she didn't like him?

It was no matter, either way. This would be the last time they saw this nameless child. Mathieu walked into the temple, eyes scanning for a priest nearby.

"Ba, ba, ba, baaa..." The infant babbled happily, which was followed by a laugh. A chubby hand ended up planting itself on Mathieu's face, a grummy smile visible as the little girl looked up at the man.

A priest was nearby, and noticed the pair, "Greetings. May I help you?"

A soft sigh escaped his lips as her looked down at the infant. He turned to the priest, "Why, yes... I had came across this, abandoned newborn in my travels. I know temples tend to take in orphans... So I wondered if you, would be willing? I'm far too busy. To raise a child..."

The priest nodded, smiling slightly, "Of course. We would love to take her. We will raise her in the ways of the Tempe." The man spoke, holding his arms out to take the child.

The infant was clasping Mathieu's robes between her little fingers as he was trying to give her to the priest, unwilling to let go.

So he held her for a little longer. Tried coaxing her by rocking her in his arms. Planting a soft kiss upon her head. Huff... If only he could have been like this with his own daughter; if only he had still been alive.

"Come on... You have to go, now..." Said Bellamont. He gently took her hands and slowly opened them, and once free of his robes, the baby was handed over to the priest. "Thank you for this... I'm afraid that's all the business I have, here. Goodbye." With that Mathieu headed out the Temple, expecting Shealyne just outside the entrance.

The Sauveterre was, in fact, waiting outside. And upon seeing Bellamont emerge from the Temple empty handed, frowned ever so slightly, "Awe. She is gone. Well...it is for the best."

And they would probably never see her again. Unless they visited. But Shealyne didn't want to risk bursting into flames.

"Yes. It is." Mathieu wandered a bit past Shealyne, walking between the pews of this small area of the courtyard, lost in thought for a time. "... You wanted to see your, possible suitor, correct? Do you wish for me to come?"

He most certainly wasn't prepared for a nobles meeting. In appearance, mostly. His sandy brown hair was wiry and disheveled, like a rat's nest flowing over his shoulders. His black robes were stained with dirt and dried blood. Dark rings around his eyes signaled his sleeplessness and well... He wasn't the handsomest man, anyway. At least not nowadays. Definitely not noble suitor material.

Shealyne smiled slightly, "I am sure you have better things to do than watch me tolerate the affections of a fat boar of a man. I will be fine on my own. Besides, he will likely run back to where he wence came upon laying eyes on me." The woman spoke in jest. Probably.

"You ever think of cutting your hair? Now I remember where Runa got her hair from..." The Sauveterre briefly commented, "I cut my hair not too long ago. It is easier to take care of whilst short."

Mathieu shrugged. "Well, I did tell your mother I'd meet that man. Get a glimpse of my... Competition." His smirk at that had faded quickly, "But, that could wait. I suppose." He combed his fingers through his hair; knots. Quite a few knots... "Hmph. Never thought of it. I used to, care for it. You know that... Not anymore. There's been no special occasion. No one to impress."

"Well, you can always use a comb. Or scissors." The woman shrugged her shoulders lightly, "If you feel like taking care of it again. There is not much I can do with my hair at its length."

"I may just have to, if it means looking, favorable, to the nobles..." Mathieu said.

"Can I just fake my own death again? It would be easier than having you go through everything just so I do not get married to a boar." Shealyne questioned. Her poor Brother. Putting up with her bullshit.

"If you wish, go ahead and try." Mathieu was now fiddling around with his hair, trying to undo the knots with his fingers. "Though they may just eventually find you again, in time... This doesn't require much. Truly. Just a bath, some time - and a more, expensive attire. Feigned mannerisms. Nothing I haven't had to do before..."

This was much like a contract, after all. Except he didn't have to kill anyone. Just fake engagement. Maybe even have a fake wedding! Fake, fake!

The red head furrowed her brows together, "Are you sure? What of your dungeon diving?" Shealyne frowned slightly, rubbing her eye in thought, "Well...I guess faking my death is not the best idea. We would have to hurt someone for that. And as you said, she could just find me again...so...if you are okay with the acting...I guess we could do that. I am very beginning to regret coming to Solitude. I am sorry to drag you into this mess."

"That can be delayed. Or not. Depending on how long we'll take. If too much time will be spent, I'll tell Eola to do as she wishes, today."

At Shealyne's last statement, Mathieu grunted, and murmured, "It's nothing... Just a sudden engagement. If we can manage that, against the boar and your mother. It won't, last. After our act is done."

"Well..." Shealyne paused, and briefly looked over her attire. Black Hand robes covered in dirt and blood. Ugh, "...I am not dressed for a suitor, either. And I do not entirely care. Perhaps you and I should, um, prepare? I assume this introduction will be short. Even if it is just an act, we must play the part, yes?"

Mathieu was already moving to the arch that connected this small area to the main courtyard. "Of course. Let's not make it any longer, than it should be. Outfits, first? And if we see Eola we'll inform her that we shall be awhile."

The Sauveterre nodded, "Outfits, yes. I have a dress in my satchel, so that will do. I just may, errr, need help putting it on. I have trouble tying the corset." Stupid corset. Stupid noble bullshit, "Furf! All this for a fake engagement."

Mathieu made some kind of airy chuckle. "I only have spare black robes."

"At least it is better than bloody black robes. You remember Antoinetta Marie, yes? Haha! Oh, it was she who believed Lucien was always naked underneath those Speaker robes. I bet some members of the Black Hand actually were..." Shealyne chuckled slightly, digging through her satchel, and pulling out a dress. It was a very strange dress. It was red, and appeared to be make of slaughter fish scales.

"Pfft! I'm sure most of them were - they likely thought themselves too superior to have decency and wear some pants." Bellamont said it as if it were a fact. He smiled. Peering at the people roaming the streets as Shealyne produced her dress, he swore he saw Eola walking along with some argonian man.

"Ha! Then I am sorry I do not have enough dignity to wear pants under these robes. Or a bra." The woman purred lightly in tease. It was a bit true. What the Forsworn considered as pants, the Sauveterre certainly didn't. They were more like undies. Or...were they simply meant to be underwear, and not trousers? Damn fashion.

"Yes. I remember how much that pains you so." Mathieu said, continuing to watch Eola and the argonian to see where they went. To have an idea of where to look once they were done at that fancy clothes store.

Shealyne simply followed her Brother whilst he moved towards the apparel store, humming slightly. She wondered if this fancy clothes place had jewelry? Ohh, shiny things! It was not long before the pair entered the establishment.

Shealyne and Mathieu were greeted by two thrilled looking altmer women as they approached the counter. "My..." One of them seemed breathless, looking them over. Mathieu leered.

"Welcome. Looking for a change of attire?... You two certainly could use it..."

Despite his glare, Bellamont smiled. "Yes. If you please. Where are your most, expensive, items?" - And there was much clinging as he dropped down a large, fat pouch of gold in front of them.

Shealyne looked upon the portly pouch, ignoring the vague insults of the women. Fuck them. She only needed a new shirt and dress shoes.

"... Why yes? Certainly. I'm sure you can afford it." One of the altmer women motioned Shealyne and Mathieu towards a few of the shelves and display cases, encouraging them to browse to their heart's content. Hopefully buy a wardrobe.

They certainly could use that man's money!

Shealyne blinked. Unfortunately for the women, she simply got a cotton shirt. Though she did get fancier dress shoes. That she would never wear after this day. Perhaps ever. Which was quite a bit of a shame. Oh, well. She was not keen on wearing fancy clothes, or jewelry for that matter. Though wearing pretty, shiny jewelry would be nice.

Mathieu wasn't one for fashion; he didn't care about the designs or brighter colors or materials of them more so than buying the most costly ones. So he could state their price and thus his 'wealth' to the competition. Though the altmer sisters did try to suggest him what would look best together. He ignored them.

Perusing the jewelry, he looked to Shealyne before grabbing a few necklaces and rings, holding them out for her to look at. "May as well show them I'm, capable of showering you with fancy gifts. Pick whichever you wish. However many you wish. Heh."

...And now Shealyne felt bad. Fuck. Curse her weakness for shiny pretty things! The Sauveterre didn't want to blow away his coin. It felt wrong, and she felt bad for it. Even worse because she knew she would only wear these fancy things once, if even that. Hmmmm...the woman stared, her internal conflict quite obvious as she eyed the pretty things. Ugh. She was akin to a dragon wanting a hoard of treasure. But was unsure what to do with said hoard of treasure.

Shealyne carefully picked up an offered necklace, inspecting it. She looked at it similar to how a child may have. Curious, interested, and in a state of wonder at how such a thing could be so designed and crafted. But she was never one for jewelry. Or fancy things.

"Damn my eye for gravitating to things of luster..." The woman murmured.

"... Please," Mathieu said, smirking. "Whatever you want, love. Or I'll choose for you."

The Silencer huffed, though stood upon her tip toes to give the male a soft peck on his lips, "I will put my trust in your judgement." Though Shealyne was pretty sure he would pick a random piece of shiny metal. At least she felt less bad if he chose...

Bellamont inspected the necklaces, the rings, imagining it on her with that strange red dress she'd wear. Though it didn't matter. She probably wouldn't wear them afterward anyway. But for some reason a small piece of him felt nice for trying to buy her things. He picked out a silver necklace, imbued in the middle with three small rubies, and one (or two, or three!) jeweled rings and turned their items in to the counter, paying for them all.

"If these are alright? I believe we're done here."

"They are gorgeous. Thank you, love." The Sauveterre smiled. She didn't get a gift in...well, ever! Much less gifts! At least, Shealyne would like to think them as such. Hmmm. Perhaps she would wear them more often than she originally thought. That would be lovely. And she would keep them safe, of course! Wouldn't want to lose them or have them stolen!

With that, the pair began to take their leave of the store, the altmer sisters quite content and very, very pleased.

Eola soon approached Mathieu and Shealyne as they exited the store, Mathieu draping some noble clothes over his shoulder after failing to fit them in his bag. Eola smirked.

"Eola, I was about to come find you." Mathieu said, then looked at Demodius, and realized it was the argonian he spied lollygagging around with the woman, "Who is this?"

De replied, "I'm Demodius. Just happened to meet Eola here and she offered me some work. Though Shealyne, she'll know who I am, she and her daughter in law employed me before." He then gave a small nod to the vampire, "Hello, Shealyne."

"Greetings." Was the woman's simple reply. Hopefully the lizard would not get on her nerves as much. Though she doubted it. Her tone was not entirely unpleasant, since she was in quite the good mood at being gifted shiny things. Despite current events.

'"Ah. Well. Greetings, then, Demodius." Mathieu replied, not sounding enthused, but neither displeased. "I'll assume this, work regards Dead Man's Respite?"

"Mm-hm. We've found a location; south of the docks, west of Morthal."

Mathieu frowned a bit, "... There's going to be a, slight delay in those plans then, I'm afraid... Me and Shealyne? We have to attend some noble meeting. Hopefully it will be quick, but I'm not entirely certain..."

"Oh, I was wondering what possessed you to buy clothing other than robes," Eola chuckled, "Do tell me. You came across your mother, didn't you, Shealyne?"

"Much to my displeasure." The Sauveterre spoke, "We shall meet up with you once we are finished, yes?"

Demodius held back an annoyed sigh trying not to be rude when he heard there'd be a delay. So he kept quiet listening in.

Wait, did she just say Shealyne's mother, and good clean, expensive looking clothing? He tried to think of why then realized, '_Oh, Shea must have a wealthier family... hmmm, now that I think back she did have a few, polite quirks and habits._' He kept his opinions to himself though, and continued to listen.

"... That's fine. It's not as if the tomb is going anywhere. We'll just have to find something to pass the time while they're at their suitor party, right, Demodius?" Eola looked up at the argonian. Mathieu scoffed - suitor party, of course. Let the stranger be aware of that... Though, he wouldn't be surprised if more people knew of it, however this went. High-class occasions tend to be made very known to the public ear... Tch. Damn nobles.

The argonian looked to the woman and nodded, "Right, we'll find a way to pass the time." he then looked back to Mathieu and Shea, "Good luck with your... suitors?" He looked confused, but he clearly knew he wasn't gonna get an answer. Eh, maybe Shealyne was dating or something... why was this guy going then? He mentally shrugged it off.

"I will break my leg in luck, yes?" Shealyne responded, looking at the dress in her hands. Ugh. She'd have to put that thing on. It was a good thing vampires didn't change in body shape. She probably wouldn't fit in it, otherwise.

Mathieu gave a dry, one-note laugh to Demodius. "We'll try." He furrowed his brows, though, when he truly looked over the argonian well. "Either way, we'll head to the ruins, soon enough. I'm, sure, you'll have no trouble there."

The man turned to leave. To a bath. Better to get it over with.

Shealyne blinked, and simply moved to follow her Brother. Shealyne wasn't sure where they were going. Not at the moment, anywhere. She assumed her Brother didn't, either, "Should we go to the river nearby? I think there is one."

Mathieu nodded. "... Mm."

When, in due time, they made it to the river Shealyne spoke of, Bellamont motioned for her to go first. "I'll just... Go to the far side."

"Very well." Shealyne spoke, approaching the river as she prepared to remove her robes.

Mathieu, as he stated, went a ways to the other end of the river to give her privacy, placing his new clothes near as well as dropping his robe beside them when he discarded it. He settled down in the water. Hmm... What to do with his hair...

Shealyne figured she could at least wash her robes. They could dry in the mean time they were dealing with her mother. The woman did just that, swiftly washing her robe and setting it to dry upon a low lying branch. While not entirely wishing to bathe in cold water, Shealyne figured it just, given the situation. Needless to say, her bathing was very swift, if firm.

The woman then focused upon her dress, and carefully worked on squeezing herself in it. She didn't want to risk accidentally tearing it.

Suddenly, a hand grasped Shealyne's shoulder as she was fixing on her dress, albeit gently.

"Need, assistance?"

There was Bellamont, clad in fine purple attire, black furs draping around a little past his shoulders and held by a brooch; his sandy hair was neatly combed and tied back in a ponytail. He didn't care enough to cut it - why should he tend to himself anymore than he has? He was also adorned with a jeweled necklace and rings. Poor, wasted coin...

The Sauveterre wasn't expecting someone to be behind her; much less put a hand on her shoulder. Shealyne jumped in start, a slight gasp coming from her, "Sithis, you nearly made my heart beat..." The woman murmured as she briefly turned to look at Bellamont, "But, yes. Can you make sure the corset is properly fastened, please?"

Without a word, Mathieu did as Shealyne wished and helped the woman with her corset. Though fumbling a bit, when he was finished he glanced at Shealyne with a concerned look. "You can, breathe, right? These seem to be very... Tight."

The red head nodded, "I can breathe, yes, thank you. They are meant to be tight and uncomfortable." Shealyne spoke. Not that breathing was required when one had a corset.

The woman turned around, smiling slightly as she put on the necklace with tiny rubies upon it, the cool metal resting upon her chest, "You look striking, no?" The Sauveterre commented, slipping the rings upon her fingers.

A small smile creased his lips, and he made a short, pleased sound. "...As do you, love." He kissed her lightly, "Even if our getups end up, for naught."

A light, airy chuckle escaped the female Breton, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, no? If that is the case, let us hope your competition has a weak stomach and will flee upon seeing me." Shealyne spoke with a smile, offering her hand out to be held.

Mathieu took the vampire's hand, beginning to walk back to Solitude. "Oh, we can only hope... Where is this place situated? Do you know?"

The Sauveterre smiled as she held her Brother's hand. They were holding hands! Yay!

"Mother has an estate in Solitude, I believe. She will likely be there, since I doubt she is still waiting in the Dour's courtyard. I think the estate is a vacation home." Though Shealyne wasn't sure why anyone would want to vacation in Skyrim.

"Huh. An estate, a mere vacation home..." Said Bellamont. He was slowly faltering behind Shealyne as they returned to the city, letting her lead on towards the estate.

Shealyne frowned slightly as she led on. She didn't like this. It wasn't fun. She felt like a cornered rat, and her mother, the cat. And her poor Brother was bending over backwards to simply try and help her...

She should have just stayed outside of Solitude. Then they would not be in this mess. The Sauveterre ran over her thoughts again and again, and unfortunately found herself at the estate's main entrance faster than she desired.

The red head simply stared at the door, as if it were some kind of great beast that needed to be slain. Or as if she could freeze time by simply glaring at something hard enough. Ugh. She felt nervous...and she was stalling on knocking. By awkwardly standing and staring at a door.

The man waited. Patient, ever so patient, for her to simply raise a fist and knock on the door. He recited possibilities, options, how he should behave and what he should speak - how and what he shouldn't. Mathieu shifted from leaning on one feet to another, tapping them. He squeezed Shealyne's hand to reassure her. Snap her awake from her thoughts.

Idling just made the whole ordeal more loathsome. He hated doing this; it went against his own desires. He hated forced marriage, and he hated how Shealyne's mother was pushing this onto her. And the woman felt the same, most obviously. It was wrong! How her mother made Shealyne fear, how her mother regarded her as lesser, just like any other of the miserable blood-suckers and no different...

Lowering his head to her ear, Mathieu leered and whispered venomously, "If you are so fearful of what your mother places upon you, then perhaps I should ram a stake through her heart and end your tribulation right there."

Shealyne frowned slightly at her Brother's offer. But only slightly. He would kill her mother for her? And then she would be free! But, at the same time, the Sauveterre did not wish for her mother to die. Elizabeth was still her mother. Surely the older woman felt some more of kinship-however minor-to the younger woman as well? Surely there was the love of a mother, deep down. Deep, deep down. Just as Shealynetta held love and care towards her mother. Because she was her mother. She could only ever have one mother...

"Let us see what she finalizes. If it is unfavorable, then you may pierce her heart." The Sauveterre answered softly, quietly. Her hand simply squeezed Mathieu's in return as the female Breton raised her hand, and rasped her knuckles against the door.

"Typically? I found fire works best. Torch, spell, enchantment... It'd be best to attack from a distance, if we could - they can be a little tricky close-up."

Mathieu simply nodded, expressionless, and readied his posture as he waited for the door to open. Then perhaps the unfavorable will turn out favorable for me, Mathieu thought. He still needed something to show for the Dawnguard; killing another vampire through Shealyne's connections would serve only to fulfill his promise.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the door opened to Elizabeth. The woman resumed her scowl, though she said nothing as she looked the pair over. She was silent for a long time, "Good. We were getting tired of waiting." The greying woman murmured, stepping away from the door to allow the pair entrance.

Bellamont let go of Shealyne's hand, but still kept close beside her when they entered the estate.

Elizabeth decided to speak not as she led them through the estate. Shealyne forgot how decorated everything was when one was rich, and she swiveled her head around in observation for her eye to see. It was then that the woman relealize she never set foot in this home before. She never had a reason to.

As the greying woman led them into a lavish room, she called to a man sitting upon a chair, beckoning his attention, "Rufio, your betrothed is here."

Shealyne blinked. Betrothed? So this man was not her suitor but her betrothed? What? No...no, that could not be. Unless the dowry was already finalized?

The younger Sauveterre didn't get to dwell on this for long, as she actually took the time to observe this Rufio. The man, while appearing to only be in his thirties, was portly, and verging on obese. His arms and legs appeared more like tree trunks of blubber, and his size make his gait more akin to a waddle. While his skin was naturally pale, his face was flushed red. The man had no facial hair, and that only illuminated the chin sweat that was under his lower lip. What the man seemed to lack in facial hair, he made up with sweat. The only thing that appeared fine on him was his wealth of attire. And even then, his clothes looked to be screaming.

Shealyne would have noted Rufio's eyes and hair, had he not opened his mouth to speak. It was a shrill, high pitched voice, irritating, almost sounding more like a woman's than a man's, "You did not tell me she has a deformality. I expect the dowry to be raised in price to make up for this damage."

Elizabeth just shrugged, "And it shall. If you prove to be more of value than her suitor." The old woman spoke, motioning to Bellamont.

Rufio narrowed his eyes, "I was not informed there would be competition." The man huffed, spit-stache illuminating in the light.

"T'was unexpected, dear Rufio." Elizabeth shrugged, "Shealynetta, allow me to introduce you to Rufio Chezca."

Despite his previous complaint, the portly man stepped forward, and grasp Shealyne's hand. To her, it felt more like having a toddler hold her hand. Soft. Uncalloused. And pudgy. And upon his lips touching her hand, it felt more like a clumsy child's kiss than anything, slobber and all. Or a dog.

Shealyne's hand ended up being coated with saliva. Either that, ot it was from the chin sweat. It was hard to tell. And the woman wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. She wanted to wipe her hand, but that would be rude.

The red head forced herself to smile, "It is my pleasure to meet such a, fine, young, man. Such as yourself." While she smiled, her gaze briefly fell upon Mathieu.

Her gaze pretty much said one thing: 'Help me...'

Rufio nodded, smiling slightly, before turning his attention to the male Breton, "And who is this?"

... Divines have mercy... Mathieu had to exercise all his self-restraint not to grimace, leer - and simply tug the smallest smile on his lips. This sweaty sload of a man was what her mother chose as her suitor? No, no, her betrothed? Already?

Bellamont exchanged glances with Shealyne, noticing her quick pleading gaze. He turned to Rufio and said pleasantly, "Mathieu Bellamont... A pleasure to meet you."

Rufio smiled as well, "Oh, no, Mister Bellamont, the pleasure is mine." Despite the portly man's words, he did not go to shake Bellamont's hand.

Elizabeth merely watched, scowl ever present, "Shall we take this conversation upstairs? My records are in my office." Though the older woman did not wait for a reply. She was already making her way towards the two flights of stairs.

Shealyne did not immediately follow, though her portly suitor-betrothed? Whatever he was, did.

The red head looked at Mathieu briefly, and frowned. At least she could wipe the spit-sweat off her hand without them seeing.

Mathieu sighed softly. Gently, he pulled her other, cleaner hand up to him and pressed his own lips to it. Again trying to relieve her. At least he didn't blotch her hand with spit or sweat. He soon after followed Elizabeth and Rufio up the stairs.

The woman smiled at her Brother's affection. It certainly did help her feel better. Even if it was a small amount. Slowly, Shealyne followed after the others.

Elizabeth was swift in climbing the stairs, the woman long gone by the time her daughter started climbing. In her trek up the flights, Shealyne passed Ruffio. The portly man was huffing and puffing away.

The female Breton reached the top of the stairs, and halted in her walking. She turned around, and looked at Rufio, as if waiting. Waiting. But not. Calculating.

She hoped he had a coronary. That would be wonderful! But hoping that upon someone was mean...

But rather, she was debating. She or her Brother could easily push him down the stairs. It would be an unfortunate accident, after all. His awkward gait caused him to slip, and his fatigued state prevented him from catching himself.

They could do that, and this mess would all be over. All over. And they would just be each other's alibi.

They would just have to pretend to care. Pretend to help him. Pretend it was an accident.

The opportunity was there.

But was it the right one to take?

The Sauveterre briefly looked at Mathieu, as if seeing if he was thinking the same. Seeing if he thought they should act.

Mathieu certainly saw the opportunity. It was easy, so easy, merely a thrust away to end this; the sload would topple over and crash down the stairs and hopefully break his neck before he lay at the base. Kill the competition. Kill this whole meeting and fake engagement. Easier than killing Elizabeth, though both deaths could be of benefit...

The man observed Rufio waddling up the stairs while huffing and heaving, and peeked over at Shealyne. Then back at Rufio. Then at her, and nodded.

As Rufio waddled his way up the stairs, Shealyne waited, seeing her Brother's approval. Upon the portly man making it to the top, Shealyne moved as if to help steady him. Except it was a push. It was actually a lot easier to send the man toppling over and tumbling down the stairs than she thought it would take.

The woman gave out a cry of mock start, as in mere seconds, Rufio lay at the bottom, body of blubber still. Well, not entirely. Quite unfortunately, he was still alive. But he certainly wasn't getting up anytime soon.

Fuck!

Shealyne felt a wave of terror wash over her. No! He needed to die! He could not live!

Mathieu had feigned a gasp, reaching out as if to help Rufio when he fell, but his delight instantly turned to distress when he found the blob still breathing. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! What were they to do? He couldn't slit his throat or strangle him. He didn't have potent poisons on him. They just had to watch as Rufio stood up, shrieked out to Elizabeth, and have the old woman pounce upon them like predator on prey. His instincts told him to flee.

No! Nonononono, nooo!

Shealyne wanted to flee! To scurry away like a rat hiding from a cat!

Rather, the woman rushed down the stairs, and gripping Mathieu as she went, whispered swiftly, urgently to him, "Break his fat fucking neck!" There was an unevenness in her tone, perhaps one of concern and barely withheld terror.

Shealyne was swift in getting to Rufio, and despite a Restoration spell in her hand, her other hand went slammed his mouth shut, "Shhh! It-it is okay, Rufio. You are...you are going to be okay." The woman spoke, voice frantic despite its softness.

She looked towards Mathieu, glancing to him, then to the stairs. No Elizabeth yet. Yet.

He needed to do it. He needed to do it. If Rufio lived, he would tell. He would tell and Elizabeth would come. And if they kept this up too long, Elizabeth would catch them in the act of a plan gone wrong! But they couldn't flee! Rufio could not live! He could not!

The red head's hands shook and trembled with nerves. Mother could not find out!

... Of course. Mathieu was a little too shocked to think of a most obvious solution - and he wasted no more time. The man thrust his hands forward, clutching Rufio's head, one at his temple and one on his blubbery cheek. In one swift motion he twisted -

Cr-AACK!

"By the Gods!" Exclaimed Bellamont. His eyes were wide in faux horror; his hands were off Rufio's head and instead frantically roamed his chest and neck, checking for vital signs. He looked to Shealyne and said breathlessly, "He's dead."

"What happened?!" Came Elizabeth's voice from the top of the stairs. The woman came down to observe what happened.

At this point, Shealyne ceased her Restoration spell, "Rufio fell down the stairs, Mother. I could not help him..." The red head murmured, a hand moving to force his eyelids closed.

Elizabeth just scowled, "Ugh. Of course! Fat boar...did he damage the floor with his fall?"

"Uhh...I do not think so, no..." Shealyne spoke, briefly looking around. Damn. Her mother cared more about property damage than a dead man on her floor...

Ceasing his inspection, Mathieu got back to his feet, shaking his head slowly and pinching the bridge of his nose in reaction to the dead man. Though he may have well acted normally, uncaring. Elizabeth certainly seemed so.

Shealyne stood as well, face etched into a frown as she stared sullenly at unfortunate Rufio, "Should we do anything for him?"

Elizabeth snorted, "No. Let one of the servants inform the Temple. They will take care of him. Unfortunately, I do not see the point in either of you staying here at the moment."

"But... What of the, arrangements, Mrs. Sauveterre? Engagement? I suppose they are adjourned?" Mathieu asked, though he for some reason he felt that it was not his place to speak of it.

The older woman stared at Bellamont, as if debating. She then exhaled, "They are adjourned, yes. At least you have a more extensive vocabulary, Mister Bellamont."

Well, Shealyne assumed they could leave now. Poor Rufio.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sauveterre... And I apologize for this sudden, inconvenience, and for your wasted time. We'll take our leave now. Goodbye."

So Mathieu took Shealyne's hand once more, striding eagerly over to the doors.

"Goodbye, Mother." Shealyne spoke as she allowed her Brother to lead her. The woman did not respond.

Well...at least that was over. Yay! But at what price?

The two were a generous distance away from the estate when Mathieu spoke, "That went over... Better than expected. In a way. Are you pleased you don't have to possibly marry some sload, for the time being? Or me, for that matter?"

"The sload? Of course. Though it is a bit sad what happened to him." Shealyne spoke, "You, however...hmmmm. That is a more complex answer."

"Sad that we willingly pushed him downs stairs and broke his neck? I suppose." Said Bellamont. He furrowed his brows at her latter statement, "... Really? How so?"

"I would not mind it. Marrying you. Just...not like that. Not forced." Shealyne figured marriage was supposed to be romantic. Or at least marrying someone was. But arranged marriages sucked all the romantic things right out of that.

"Mm, yes, I understand. I... Always wished for a, natural marriage. After you've known another for a long time. When all seems, settled, and proposal appears to be more of an answer than a question..."

"Yes. But the quiet moments in life just seem so few and far between. They are rare. You are rather, uh, what is it...old fashioned, yes? It is good." The Sauveterre spoke, "People are scary."

"That is true. So very, painfully true..." Feeling his legs a little pained from walking to and fro in this large city, he opted to sit and unwind at a lone bench. "That's why marriage seems like such a, foreign option. Especially here. Apparently in Skyrim, two need only to wear an amulet and express interest in one another to get betrothed."

Shealyne sat upon the bench as well, taking off her dress shoes as she began to rub and massage one of her feet, "I do not understand how someone can marry like that. It sounds as if it is based more on lust."

Mathieu shrugged. "I heard some reason it is because Skyrim is such a harsh land, that people here fall in love quick, without much courtship."

"I do not know. I would rather have someone know me first. Of course, I am an insane bitch." The woman shrugged, finishing with her feet massaging, "I think acceptance and understanding a good chunk of love."

"Oh, I agree. Completely."

Mathieu spent a long time in silence, observing all surrounding them, watching the citizens pass by. They could likely set out to that ruin soon. Though he figured Eola and Demodius might have gotten occupied with something else for a time, expecting their 'suitor party' to last longer... Suddenly he turned back to the vampire, eyes lit up, looking elated. "We agreed that you'd share with me your memories of Runa, once we had time in Solitude, hm?"

Shealyne had been looking up at the sky, before her attention was drawn back to Mathieu's remark. She smiled, "Oh course, Mathieu. You can finally get to see her! I do hope you like her." The Sauveterre spoke. But she was a bit nervous. What if he didn't like the way Runa looked, or did not like the way she acted, or...ugh. She was thinking and fretting too hard, wasn't she? Mathieu would like her. Why wouldn't he?

"We can go get a room now, yes?" The red head questioned, putting on her dress shoes, "You know...I think I will wear the necklace and rings. Just a bit longer. You bought them for me. That makes them special." Shealyne smiled as she slowly stood up.

From somewhere near Shea and Mathieu, the sound of two male voices, and the sound of a walking stick tapping on the ground would be heard, the two bickering lightly back and forth about something.

The woman, however, became distracted upon hearing two familiar voices...what the...

"_I'm tellin' ya lad, you taking it just a tad too slow. Keep up that pace, and that lil' redhead is gonna go off and find herself somebody else._" The elder of the pair was saying.

"_Is this you actually caring, or is this mom trying to subtly hint that she wants grand kids?_" The younger pried.

"_It's ya mam wanting you to finally settle down and be happy, Rummy. Grandkids would be a bonus, but she ain't in no hurry for that, she don't wanna put no pressure on your lass._"

"_Please don't call me Rummy..._ "

"_Why not? Preferable to Idol. You ain't no damn idol boy._" It sounded mean, but the older man was laughing at his own joke.

"_Uh-huh, keep laughing, I'll take your stick._" Idolrum grumbled. Damn old codger.

...No. No, it...it was just her ears playing tricks on her...certainly not Idol and Vadik. Certainly not...

Or so she hoped not. Oh, Sithis...

...

...

...

Oh, fuck! She forgot about Idolrum!

The woman paled slightly. Please do not let it be Idol. Please do not let it be Idol. Please do not let it be Idol.

Mathieu smiled. Oh, did he want to see his daughter so terribly bad... Though he noticed when Shealyne had seemed a bit, worried? He wasn't sure.

"Are you fine, love? Is there something, wrong, about this?"

Whether it be fortunate or no for Shea, the voices faded as they took another direction, heading away from the pair, though for how long it was uncertain.

...Hmmm. And now the Sauveterre heard nothing. Ha! It must have been her mind playing tricks on her.

"Uh, no, love, things are fine. Everything is fine. I just, uh, it is just, the events of today. They are catching up with me." Shealyne spoke, holding out her hand for Mathieu to take. It was trembling.

Shit.

Fuck.

She would need to tell him.

She lied! And she needed to correct it! She needed to tell the truth!

And tell Idol the truth...

Mathieu accepted her trembling hand, yet becoming more concerned at this. Was it simply the day's events? It seemed so sudden, even then. She's honest that it isn't regarding her memories? Something about them?

He decided to change the subject as they sauntered into the streets again, "I'm glad you'd like to keep wearing the jewelry. It'd seem even more a waste now, to discard them after such a short time. When it truly did not matter. Heh."

Shealyne seemed to calm some, though she remained alert, looking around at the various people nearby, "You bought me them when you did not have to. Even if it was for a foolish occasion, it was still sweet. Thank you, Mathieu." Hmmm. The red head should buy Mathieu something. Something practical. Shealyne was not good at giving gifts.

"Yes, for a foolish occasion... But perhaps it doesn't have to be. You can consider it a gift, for our reunion. Our, rekindling."

Shealyne smiled, and using her tip toes, promptly planted a kiss upon her Brother's cheek, "Love you." Yay for rekindling!

Ugh...it would be the most short lived rekindling ever...not even a day, and she fucked up. And then they would be done. And Mathieu would go fuck Eola at their cannibal orgy parties...

The woman frowned slightly at that. Ugh. She was getting jealous again, at the thought.

...Again,the voices would reach their ears.

"_Boy, I said wait right here. May have a lame leg but I'll be damned I can't go and fetch a few things from the alchemists, cool your heels out here for just a minute._"

"_Uh-huh, so you can go chat up the lady running the place and not have any witnesses, sure_." Idol drawled. To which Vadik promptly smacked him on the shoulder with his stick. Not hard, but enough to feel it. "_Ow!_"

"_Damn, I missed your fat head! Eh, oh well, that'll teach ya to mouth off._" Vadik grumbled before limping off inside the alchemists shop.

...And then she became fearful, because she once more heard Idolrum's voice. That caused her to let go of Mathieu's hand. Ohhh...fuck her...

He felt like it shouldn't have mattered that she broke her hold on his hand. But given her odd behavior, it was concerning... Bah! How petty this was!

"Something is troubling you. Are you sure it isn't about Runa, and your memories?"

The female Breton shook her head, "No, no. Runa and my memories are fine. They are not bothering me. Something...is, however. It is important, because I...um, accidentally fabricated the truth. And I need to fix it and say the real truth to make my promise good." Shealyne murmured, "But not here, yes?"

Ugh! Goodbye, newly rekindled relationship!

Mathieu looked slightly bemused, but also narrowed his eyes. Oh, lovely, wonderous... He hadn't been anticipating another confession from her today. He was too content to, oddly enough. Beyond that suitor meeting he had planned to delve into that ruin and view the vampire's memories. Nothing more. But he nodded at her, walking with intentions to head to the tavern, passing right beside the alchemist's shop.

Shealyne followed Mathieu, cautious, wary, and sporting a sense of dread. It was then she noticed Idol. Or, rather, his back. The woman slowed in her footfalls, "You can go on ahead to the inn, yes? I will catch up. I just need to get something from the alchemy shop."

Mathieu frowned. "If you say so..."

Although he strode away from Shealyne he did so slowly, and kept glancing back at her, checking to see where she went.

The woman nodded, "Thank you." She then proceeded to make the short walk to Idolrum, and simply tapped upon his shoulder to get his attention.

The Nord turned his head to see who was tapping him, surprised to see it was Shea.

"Hey!" He greeted her warmly, smiling as he turned to face her, wrapping her in a hug. He was too excited to see her again to pay attention just yet to the dress and jewelry.

"Did your trip go okay?" He asked, pulling away after a bit. He knew about her going to Cyrodiil to sort out Runa.

Shealyne was dumbfounded, her mind reeling as the man hugged her. She did return it, if ever slightly. Ahhh! The guilt!

...

...

What trip? Oh. Right. That trip, "Oh, uh, no. I did not go on it yet. I got distracted."

"Distracted? How?" Idol questioned before actually noticing she was wearing her dress. "Oh...let me guess, your mother has begun throwing suitors at you already?"

"I...I met a former lover. After many, many years of not seeing him. But, uh, yes. Mother has been working on the suitor thing. But it is cleared up for now." The Sauveterre spoke.

Former lover? Uh-oh... Idol didn't like hearing about that. But it shouldn't be too bad, she'd have said something about being in a relationship, right? Wait, hold on... "...It had been two hundred years since you were with someone." He said. "How's it possible you met an old lover?" Unless they were a vampire too. Or a High Elf, those bastards could live forever damn near.

"He was a vampire. He recently became mortal." The woman answered. She was pretty sure Mathieu wouldn't like someone knowing he was dead before. At least not people he didn't know, "I...I am sorry, Idol. These last two days have been very conflicting and very confusing. I was just so excited and happy to be with my Brother again, that, that I forgot. About us. I dropped everything to be with him again. To spend time with him. I did wrong. I did very wrong last night. To the both of you. I cheated on you, and I lied to him about not being with a man. You deserve better than I, and deserves the truth. For that, you and I are done. It is okay for you to be angry with me. I just ask that...that you speak to him. Talk to him, once I tell him. The truth. I am sorry."

Huh. That was a hell of a lot easier saying that Shealyne ever thought. But then again, the Sauveterre saw this as the easy part. How her Brother would react was the real threat.

To say that Idol was confused was a bit of an understatement. She had done what now and...had she forgotten about him that easily?

No, this wasn't supposed to happen... They had, she'd said, but...

He wasn't necessarily angry right now, he was upset though. Still not entirely sure what was going on, but...he felt like maybe he understood some of it.

Maybe.

"Uh...sure, i guess." He said quietly. Whatever made her happy he guessed, because apparently, it fucking wasn't him.

"Good. That you are sure?" Shealyne wasn't sure herself. But it was going a lot smoother than she expected!

"I will be at the inn. I do not know if you would wish to follow or not." The Sauveterre spoke. Not that she gave Idol much to say, because she began walking away towards said inn.

Mathieu had booked a room for him and Shealyne soon after entering the inn, not bothering with drink or food and heading straight to the room without the innkeeper's guidance. He waited.

"Yeah...later...helping dad right now." He said.

He didn't know how to feel, this was out of the blue, but... Fuck him he didn't know what to do or say, he felt like he was just responding to cues and not actually participating right now.

Shealyne simply nodded at that, resuming on her short trek.

Shortly after Shea had departed, Vadik stepped out of the shop, waving to the proprietor before turning and holding out the bag of purchases to Idol.

"Here boy, do your old man a favor."

Wordlesly he took it and waited for Vadik to lead the way home.

"Somethin' happen to ya while I was in there?" He demanded. "You awful fucking quiet, look like someone knocked you senseless. "

"I'm fine."

" Uh-huh, and I'm Emperor Mede, spill it boy. "

"Bad news, is all."

" Uh-oh, that sounds like your mam's job, I'll shut up. "

Idol just stayed quiet as they made their way back home.

* * *

... No, no, it is petty... It was merely some, friend of hers... Yet she had noticed him by the alchemist's shop and ushered him away... No, it's a misinterpretation...

Mathieu was seated at the edge of the double bed in the room, unaware of little else than his own mind. Yet he would instantly snap his head up towards the swaying door as Shealyne entered the room. Finally! He could glimpse Runa now, as promised!... But that was overshadowed by other thoughts. It didn't seem important at this time. "What truth did you decide to fabricate?" Bellamont said. His tone was flat, indifferent.

Sword at the ready, conjuration spell in one hand. They had likely stepped into a large cavern, as the candlelight did not illuminate rocky walls. Spider eggs and egg sacs lay everywhere by their feet. Movement was heard from above, to the side, in at least three different directions.

...Oh, well, Shealyne guessed she could just go fuck herself now. So much for showing him Runa...

The red head remained by the door a bit, though slowly approached her Brother. Not completely, for she kept a bit of distance between them. The woman exhaled slightly, a frown upon her lips, "I hoped this would wait, but...I broke my promise to you, last night. I lied when I said I would only give you the truth. I...I lied, about not being intimate with a man. Lied about...not...not having a lover. I, I, just...I forgot...I just wanted to-to spend time with you, and..."

Shealyne slowly ceased her speaking. Simply saying 'I forgot I had a lover' didn't even seem like a proper excuse. It wasn't, "I just...I am sorry. I just wanted to fix it with the truth."

To say Mathieu was angry was an understatement. He was livid. Beyond livid. A frown came when he had first heard the words, etching deeper and deeper into a grimace, face twisting with rage. He glowered; crossed his arms, gripping the sides of his robes as if he was restraining them from reaching out. Despite this they were seated in silence for what felt like hours.

"... Liar." He growled, teeth bared. "Deceiver! Once more you do this - once more you're using me?! I give you my love and trust when you hide another from me?! How could you merely forgot? What excuse is that?! Oh, you knew, you should have knew full well, you should have told me last night instead of leading me on! But no. You opted to deceive. As if this was no different than two centuries ago!... And how long were you planning to use me? How long this time? Until you free yourself from the Brotherhood, with my help, just like before? Hmm?"

Shealyne narrowed her gaze upon the man, fangs baring as her anger built to a boil, "How dare you have the gall to accuse me! This is nothing like what occurred two centuries ago! Do you not even dare question my loyalty to you, when loyal is all I have been to you since our reunion!" The woman hissed, tone akin to a serpent's hiss.

"I did not lead you on, Mathieu. Nor have I been planning to use you-I have no reason to. I do not care about the Dark Brotherhood. That part of my life is over. But you do, and thus I chose to help you. I do not care if you chose to believe me or not. What I say is the truth, now. If you do not believe that, then that is your fault, Brother."

She was angry. Oh, so, livid. But the woman was proud in herself for not fully letting her heated words get the better of her.

The man had stood up by now, arms still crossed, knuckles white from the grip on his robe. "... Do not. Call me. Brother." Mathieu snarled. Each pause he made he took another step closer to Shealyne.

Shealyne chose not to speak. Rather, she kept silent, single eye focused on the male Breton, hard and stern. Her arms simply remained at her side, and even as the man neared, she did not look away, nor did she take a step back. The woman held firm, as if in challenge. She wasn't going to back down and act like some dog fearful of the fist.

"I am not your Brother. You are not my Sister. I thought we were beyond their tainted concept of kinship... Something honest, something more genuine than that..."

Mathieu exhaled a shaken breath. He took a moment to compose himself, though his impulses screamed at him to throw her down to the ground. But he remained livid. Glowering. Grimacing. He was about an inch apart from the vampire's face and holding her leer. "How else am I to think of this Shealyne?! You lied. Lied when you promised me the truth. You told me you had no one after me, no one else but me. You assured me I was the only one, too, so long ago. And yet I wasn't!... And this time, however short, appeared to me as if you'd be willing to do it again. How could you forget you had a lover!? How can one do that so easily?! It makes no sense!"

The woman held the man's gaze. Though hers had softened ever so slightly upon hearing Mathieu's words, "Why? Perhaps because I am not a good person. You were a pleasant distraction, and in that distraction, I felt companionship. Earnest, genuine companionship. I simply wanted to spend time with you, and in the process, I just...forgot, so I could at least pretend. I was very cruel to my lover. He felt companionship, and affection. I tried to return it the best that I could. But I did not feel companionship. Only affection. And that is not enough. I tried. I tried to convince myself I loved him. He clearly loved me far more than I did him. I cared for him, and pitied him, but...t'was not love I held for him. I tried, to connect with a normal man, one who had a normal life. There is nothing wrong with him. But there is something wrong with me."

"I have no true, good reason. Not one that you will accept. I did lie to you, and now I have fixed it by telling the truth, and in telling the truth, earned your hate, hnmm?" Shealyne questioned. She wasn't sure if her words even made sense. Everything was so complex and confusing, "Perhaps you should have left me in that basement to rot?"

Mathieu did not answer her question... Not the first one, at least. His expression faltered just a slight as well; his hands loosening off his robe. It still wasn't quite clear if he was forgiving of her yet.

"... Perhaps I should have. Not there, though. Not at the farmstead, in my previous life. But recently... Because I was supposed to. Do you know why I came to that farm, merely three nights ago? I traveled there to kill you."

Shealyne listened, and released something akin to a snort as her arms folded around her chest, "How quaint. A leech killer, no? And when were you planing to ram that axe through my heart? Or that fancy crossbow?"

Despite the look of indifference, the tone in her voice indicated a slight form of hurt.

"... I was not planning it. I was not thinking about it. If anything, I've been protecting you, from my own order. And at my great expense, if they ever discovered."

Shealyne frowned at that, "I am sorry, for putting you through that. The expense. And I am sorry for lying to you. I do not care if you kill vampires, even if I am one. But I do not want you to get in trouble with your order for protecting me." There was other things the red head wanted to say. A lot more, but she was unsure how to put them into coherent words.

"I did not lie when I declared my affection for you. I am just unsure what we are again."

Mathieu slowly turned his dark brown eyes from Shealyne and over to his right, out the window. "What were you planning to do with your other lover today? He was the one at the alchemist's shop, yes?"

Shealyne furrowed her brows slightly in confusion, "I have nothing planned with him. I ended it. I just asked him if he would speak with you, after I told you. Because I figured you would be too mad for me to speak to, or, I do not know. I just thought you two speaking together would be good. He said yes, but, that may have just been the shock talking...but, yes. That one." The woman nodded.

"... Oh." Mathieu said. It couldn't be discerned if he was either pleased or mad. "Then, I suppose since you've already arranged it. We can do that."

...ops. Shealyne probably should have asked first, "Well, he is supposed to come to the inn, no? You can go and talk to him. I will stay here and, uh, prepare the spell and blood and such. Now, um, go on. Go and form a 'Shealyne-Is-A-Whore' club, yes?" The woman suggested, "Ah, and I told him you were a vampire and recently became mortal...hence the reason you are still alive..."

The spell and the blood? -

Oh yes. The memories. Of course. He forgot. How sad.

Bellamont was uncertain how to feel, whether he should forgive and reason with her or not. Perhaps going to see this man would help clear his mind and make a decision... Probably not. Though perhaps he needed to spend some time apart from Shealyne; he's remained beside her for three days, after all. Breaking away may stop anything... Rash, from happening. But he merely nodded at her,

"Thank you. For not revealing I have died."

The Sauveterre merely nodded as she began to ready herself. Ugh...she hoped the conversation would stay civil...

* * *

It took him awhile before Idol would even decide if he wanted to go. Why did she want him to talk to the guy anyways? So he could see why he was replaced so damn quickly? See what had made her completely forget about him? What was the damn point?

May as well get it over with, last thing he wanted was her showing up at home asking why everything wasn't fine.

Ha! Right, she'd probably just assume he was pissed off and deserved to be blown off. What the fuck ever...

Still, for better or worse, here he was outside, staring at the door.

He didn't have to go in... He could just walk away and forget anything ever happened... No nothing, no relationship, no feelings, none of itit had happened. She could do it, why not him?

Regardless, he soon found himself inside, eyes scanning around.

He just realized he had no fucking clue who he was looking for.

Fan. Fucking. Tastic.

Really, Shealyne should have described the man Bellamont before he walked away and sat his ass down and waited. Or he should have asked... Bah! He wondered if the man was just as clueless as him as to whom he was searching for. Likely. Though he was not about to start asking any man that walked in if they were the one Shealyne wanted him to meet.

Fuck...he should have thought to ask who the hell to look for. Plus...he'd also kinda hoped Shea would be here to...to what? Soften the blow? Yeah right.

Ugh, fuck him...

Y'know what, they were staying here, perhaps the innkeep knew who he was supposed to be looking for.

Cleaning a mug, the innkeep watched Idolrum. "Welcome. What do you need? Lookin' for something?"

"Someone, actually." The Nord answered. "Was there a red haired woman in a red dress in here? She was with a companion, and I'm supposed to meet him here, but I was never told what he looked like." He explained. "I was thinking perhaps you might be able to point me in the right direction." And if not, then he'd just mosey on back home. At least he'd tried.

"Oh yeah. Mm, if I'm correct, some breton with long brown hair. Sickly looking fellow, looked like he hasn't slept for weeks. Tall for a breton, too. Hard to miss I say. If he ain't in here I'll send you to their room."

Long haired, tall, sickly Breton that was tired. Okay. "Thanks, I'll take a look around." idol answered. "If he ain't here though I can just wait." Hell for all he knew they were busy- he stopped that train of thought right there. Not his concern anymore. Shit, what was he looking for again? Right, Breton guy. ... Did he really have to?

Mathieu eventually abandoned his table, leaning against one of the pillars now as he fiddled with his dagger of numbing. Still he searched around the tavern. Maybe the man decided not to come? He wouldn't be surprised.

Eventually Idol spotted someone who fit that description, spotting Mathieu nearby. Great, ole boy had a dagger. And he'd left his sword at home. Oh well. "Excuse me.." He said politely as he walked up to the man. "Do you by chance know a woman named Shealyne?"

Mathieu looked at Idol, and smirked. "Yes... I assume you're here because she sent you? To, meet, with me? Talk?"

"Yeah, guess she thought it would be a good idea." Idol answered, scratching the back of his neck. Bastard was smirking at him, it made him want to drive his fist in his teeth. But no, that'd be a bad thing, and he didn't want any trouble. He just wanted this to be over with so he could get the fuck out.

"I suppose. Though, what is there to speak of? Shealyne? Our relations to her?"

As if Idol would want to, he'd assume. Neither would him. At least they could start by introducing themselves, and he did so as politely as he could muster,

"... My name is Mathieu Bellamont. Yours?"

"Honestly, you'd probably still know her better than I do even after all this time." Idol said before the man introduced himself. "You can just call me Idol." He said. "Mathieu...she's spoken of you quite a bit."

"Idol. Huh..." Mathieu tilted his head, "Oh? And what of me, has she spoken to you about? How I'm her lover from centuries past? That I so recently reappeared in her life and she forgot about nigh everything but me?"

Certainly that was Shealyne's explanation to him. Saying that though, a very slight part of him pitied the nord. A very slight.

"Earlier, yes. But, before, she would speak of you and she during your time with the Brotherhood. She missed you." He explained. Why? Why was he telling him this? Why was he still here talking when he could be gone by now?

Oh? So he knows about the Brotherhood? "As I've found out just three days ago. Hah. Shealyne told me I was the last lover she had... She lied, of course. You're here obviously."

"She said she was so excited to be with you again, she forgot." Idol said with a shrug. Some first impression. "Usually when she lies it's to protect that person, generally from her. She means well though, I believe." Could he leave now? Whatever problems this guy and Shea had, it was theirs now, Not his.

Bellamont shrugged. "Perhaps that is so," He said, "But it's hard to trust her. Especially, once you discover she hid another from you once before? For much, much longer, too..."

Suddenly he donned a look of curiosity, even concern, at Idol. "How do you feel about this? Being forgotten? I could, understand, that it'd be hard."

Hid another? But, the only other he knew of was her husband, and that had been before Mathieu.

So...maybe she just never told him? Oh well, that was two hundred years ago before he was ever even thought of. Not his problem.

Idol only shook his head. "I ain't gonna burden you with details, it sucks and that's that." He answered. "Ain't much i can do about it 'cept just move on."

"Yes, that'd probably be best. From what I've heard from her she never fully, reciprocated with you. She never could. You were normal and she was, not." Mathieu frowned and sighed. He gazed back down to his dagger. "But that's none of my business. It's you and hers'." The man just found this... Awkward. Idol was clearly forcing himself to stay and chat. Mathieu didn't know how they could resolve things by speaking, for there wasn't much to speak besides what they both know. The man was just, trying to hold a conversation.

And that was enough to kill off what little, tiny bit of resolve he had.

She'd never fully cared? Had she just been entertaining him all this time? That was a fine fucking how do ya do. He thought she wanted something normal. He wanted to be mad at her. Oh, did he want to. but...he couldn't.

"She and I have no more business together." He said, sounding indifferent now. "Though, do tell the Hero of Kvatch this soldier wishes her well in her travels. It's time for me to leave, i have work to do."

"Very well. I won't bother you further, as it seems we both need our time spent elsewhere. Pleasure meeting you." Said the breton man, tone dismissive and face straight. He did not wish Idolrum farewell but patted the nords shoulder before went quickly back up to see Shealyne.

Shealyne, at this point, would have everything ready. That being said, all she needed was a bowl of her own blood.

Mathieu stepped in the room. "Is the spell almost set? Idol and I have, spoken. Tried to."

Shealyne simply nodded, a cloth around her forearm to stop the bleeding, "It is ready, yes. I am sorry to put you through that without asking. Thank you, however, for doing it."

"It didn't come down to fists, luckily. But neither was it pleasant. He left, less than content." Mathieu said as he approached her. The man looked upon Shealyne for a quiet moment. "... After this is done, I'm leaving, for an hour or so. I'd like you not to follow. You might not be pleased with what I'll do. Disgusted. But when I return, I hope for things to be, resolute."

The woman blinked, then nodded slightly, "I understand. I disgust myself at times. But I cannot get away from myself when I get upset or angry or stressed." Shealyne spoke, mana welling into her palm as she sat down near the crimson filled bowl, "Ready?

Mathieu was unsure if he was supposed to but he sat down next to Shealyne. With the thought of Runa dancing around in his mind again, he seemingly perked up more.

"Yes."

The Sauveterre nodded, and a soft, if steady surge of magica went from her hand, and to the bowl of blood. What formed within the blood were glances of memories long gone.

_Food was cooking in a small, one roomed home. There was a single bed, and a makeshift bed of stray and blankets and pillows for a second bed. Clay bowls, cups, plates and utensils were sitting on a wooden table that only had one chair. Other kitchen utensils were stacked on a large wooden shelf. While the shack had windows, they were old and quite grimy._

_Flowers were stashed about the place in an attempt to make the home smell good and look better, but it ended up looking even more cluttered. The only light source was by candlelight._

_As the food began to cook, a very tiny, and a very chubby mini person patiently waited for food. Well, as patient as a year and a half year old could be. Runa was a quiet baby, and responded less with verbal signals than she did with physical._

_And the one she was currently using to signal her mother that she was hungry, was by lightly raising her pudgy arms, and slapping them upon her portly belly._

_Shealyne, upon seeing this, lightly chuckled, "I know you are hungry, Runa...but no food yet. It is not ready."_

_Runa merely looked up upon her mother, skin pale save for a light red flush upon her cheeks, the faint hair that she had upon her was several shades lighter than her mother's. Her brown eyes became wide at the mention of food. Runa jumped lightly up and down, tiny arms flailing in excitement, though she bounced more on her ankles, for her feet never touched the ground._

_Once more, Runa lightly slapped her belly with both of her hands, resuming her light bouncing in place._

_"Oh, I know, honey...I know..." The woman sighed lightly._

The memories then shifted slightly, forming and reshaping to adjust and display within the blood. Shealyne paused briefly, "If...you get tired of this, please let me know. Or if you want to see something else. I am sure baby things are not that interesting...Cute, but not entirely interesting..."

Mathieu looked to be deftly interested, tilting his head slightly and getting lost in the bowl of blood and memories. He leaned in a bit and squinted to discern the vision better. However, he did say, "If you wish. A couple years later, perhaps."

Shealyne nodded, "As you wish..." The woman focused on going later into her memories, the blood beginning to form a vision.

_The vision showed Runa, still within the shack. She appeared to be around eight years of age. She was more slim and toned, facial features gaunt and hair having grown to her mid back. Despite this, her body had not yet been ravaged by the first flushes of puberty._

_A rock lay at the center of the floor, painting supplies around it. Though Runa was a bit more busy doodling on her own arms than anything else. Shealyne frowned slightly from her position on the kitchen chair. She was busy trying to fix a busted shoe sole with needle and thread. It was not going so well, "Be careful you do not dirty your clothes, Runa..."_

_The girl with slightly pointed ears turned towards her mother ever so briefly, and smiled, "Will you help me, Moma?" The girl's voice was soft and gentle, as if belonging to a child of a shy nature._

_Shealyne paused briefly to look upon the girl, eyes moving away from her current task, "To help doodle on your arms or clean you up?"_

_"No, Moma! To help me paint Mudders!" The child beamed, smile present._

_Her mother furrowed her brow, "Mudders? Oh, your imaginary mudcrab friend?"_

_Runa merely nodded. Quite vigorously, "Yes. I want to make Mudders not imaginary, so other people can see him, too!"_

_Shealyne said nothing for a bit, before setting down her items upon the table. She slowly exhaled as she rose to join her daughter upon the floor, "Okay, Runa. How do you want me to help you paint Mudders?"_

As the memory began to fade, Shealyne snorted in a light laught, "Ugh...you should have seen how terrible that poor rock looked. But Runa tried to take Mudders wherever she went on their little adventures..."

A warm, genuine smile began to slowly crease on Bellamont's lips upon viewing this vision. Ooh, that was Runa! That was his daughter! And that was how she looked, and oh, she had such a sweet, innocent, childish smile, and a playful, light, innocent voice... She did art too! Just like Shealyne said! She painted and drew! He wondered if she did writing, poetry, just like him - ohh, he must ask her...

"That is, nice, though. Ah... How good it is to see her, how she looks; she appears to take after you more... Had, she ever done poetry? Writing, as an art? Or did she prefer painting?"

Shealyne smiled as well. Mainly because her Brother was smiling, "I am glad you like her. I was worried you would not, for some reason...but, yes. She did write, sometimes. She liked painting more, but, she would write when she felt like it."

"Ah! That is fine. Well. Could you share any of those, instances? Do you recall whatever that she wrote?" Try as he might, Mathieu could not hold back the elation in his voice. And it seemed to make him speak a little hurriedly.

Shealyne resumed her smiling, "Finding those particular instances would be hard, I think. I remember they were mainly childish subjects, so, they unfortunately slip my mind. I apologize." Damn. This was the happiest she saw Mathieu in...ever.

"Oh, that is, fine. What else would you like to show me?" Mathieu's smile did not waver. It almost felt unnatural to be this joyous!

Shealyne laughed, "You are all smiles! It is nice to see you like this..." The woman cleared her throat slightly, "But, yes. I think I have a memory you will like."

The woman once more focused upon rousing the memories from the blood, "But I think you may find it foolish...it involves a lot of kittens..."

Mathieu arched a brow, somewhat bemused, but did not say no to this.

_The memory was a rather simple one. Like previously, it was held within the small one roomed home. Shealyne was busy sleeping. Or, rather, attempting to sleep upon her nest of blankets and pillows on the floor. There was a light frost fall of snow upon the ground outside, and while light, the snowfall was beginning to drop harder and harder. It was then that the door to the small home burst open, a breeze of chill and snowflakes blowing into the home. Runa scurried in first, giggling, laughing, and face flushed from the bitter bite of the chill air, a box within her arms. Runa's entrance was soon followed by her older brothers, who swiftly closed the door to prevent the cold from getting in._

_The Sauveterre raised a brow, and slowly got herself up as Runa set the box upon her own bed, "You will never guess what we found, Moma!"_

_"Kittens!" Aiden cheered, unraveling the clothing layers off of himself as he spoke._

_"And where did you find these kittens?" Shealyne questioned, eyes narrowing upon the box, arms crossing over her chest._

_"The pirates must've had a mouser that had kittens! They were cold out in the snow. So we took 'em!" Connor chirped, Runa opening the box to play with said kittens, gently petting them as they mewed and stumbled around haplessly in the box._

_The red head shook her head, "So you stole from pirates? If they come here..."_

_"Can we keep them, Moma?" Runa asked, holding a small cat and cradling it into her chest, "Please?"_

_"No, Runa. They need their mother, and-" The woman, however, was interrupted by Connor, "Ah~ah~ah! Way ahead of ya!"_

_The teen paused, and produced a larger, less amused cat from his coat, "Ta~daaa! Sparkle, sparkle! Furry, furry!" The mother cat did not appear to be amused._

_"I...no, you three." Shealyne murmured, but the relentless assaults were getting to her._

_Runa frowned, "But Mooooma! The kittens could diiiiiie!" The girl whispered in a tone of concern and dismay, "It is so c-old."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_"Ugh...fine. We can keep them until it warms up, yes?" The mother questioned. Ugh. Damn kids..._

_"Yaaaay!" Runa bounced up and down slightly, she and Aiden already working on getting the kittens out of the box, of which there were six. Connor set the mother cat down._

_Shealyne would have preferred not to keep little furry things. But, she supposed it made her children happy, and that was good enough for her._

_And thus, Runa sat upon the floor, leaning against the wall. She was smooshed between her older brothers, each having several kittens in their laps, which they played with and petted._

Mathieu exhaled softly. "That's... That's endearing. Even the twins... I do wish I could have, been there..."

He wished he could've been there for everything, frankly; he was sure Shealyne wouldn't be able to show him all her memories... Even if it had meant living in some humble little shack on a bunch of hay he felt it be worth it somehow... This was quite surreal, to view events from when one was dead and gone...

The Sauveterre smiled sullenly, voice soft, "I know. I do, too." The female Breton then ceased the flow of magica to her palm, "We can do this another time, if you wish. But for now, I believe you have somewhere to be without me, yes? I will be here when you return."

"Hm. Yes. I've almost forgotten." Mathieu said, frowning now slightly. He had been content with just watching on with Shealyne. It was a lovely distraction. But, of course, they could always do it another time; he figured doing this must be pretty costly on her magicka anyway.

Hesitantly, he stood. "I hope to stray not too far off the road to Solitude. I'll head past the docks. If Eola and, Demodius return, you three can head there, and we'll likely cross paths. Then we can start off, to the ruin."

Shealyne nodded, "Very well. Be careful, yes?" The woman suggested. She figured she'd know when Eola and the Argonian would enter the inn. She could hear that damnable chuckle from almost anywhere...

At least it could give her time to get out of this dress.

"I will."

Shealyne's memories had come to alleviate some of the stress that was wearing Mathieu down. As he'd walk out the city and down the road, he nearly wondered why he was doing this in the first place, with those little visions of Runa replaying in his mind... But his mind soon resurfaced. To the tangle of thoughts, of doubts and uncertainties - just a haphazard mess of things he simply could not determine on. Thoughts bounced off one another and ran and lead into other ideas. It was frustrating. His head, his thoughts... He was growing ever irate as his mind raced. Mathieu's hand gripped the handle of his war axe, his pace steadied into a fast walk, narrowed eyes peering down and around the road as he passed the docks and crossed the bridge.

There had to be someone. Anyone. He didn't care who they were, not this time, they just had to come along and cross ways...

* * *

Well, now Shealyme could work on getting this damn dress off. Hopefully without tearing it. That would be bad. And she would need to go and retrieve her robes. If no one stole them yet.

Shealyne just finished shimmying her boney ass out of the dress when she heard a knock. The woman swiftly dressed within her shirt and pants, and opened the door.

While there was no one at the door, or in the hallway, there was a pillow propped up against the foot of the door. Wilfred also had a small note sitting on top of him.

Shealyne frowned upon seeing the pillow, and gently bent down to pick up Wilfred. She cradled the pillow-child akin to an infant, and picked up the note to read it.

The note was short, and scrawled, as if written either in a hurry, or without much care. 'No one is going to be around to take care of it, thought you'd like it back.' It wasn't signed, but it wasn't hard to figure out who had written it.

Shealyne frowned. Damn. Now she felt bad. She guessed Idol was off to wandering again. Oh, well. It was probably for the best. He needed a nicer woman. Poor Wilfred. Well, now Shealyne guessed she could draw a smiley face on the pillow, like she wanted...If only it were under happier circumstances.

* * *

**Questions, comments, concerns? Thank you for taking the time to read this story once again! Feel free to leave a review on this train wreck if you want! Poor Idolrum deserves a better woman. **


	8. The Speaker

**One of the shorest chapters, but this one took me the longest in terms of editing and trying to make a fight scene read naturally and not be a jumbled mess. Some parts I edited out for better narrative flow.**

**The interconversations of the group can be a bit jumbling, I think, at times, because multiple conversations are happening at once. Fully reordering the conversations-when I tried-ironically made the talking sound too organized, and thus unrealistic to the group (and made some of the events they reacted to out of order). That, and they are constantly bouncing and adding to the various topics of conversation. :P**

**All characters belong to their rightful owners.**

**Lucien, Eola and Bellamont belong to Bethesda.**

* * *

A man walking his horse along the road, the animal used more as a packmule than anything. It was quite clear he was attempting to get his cargo to the docks. Everything was fine and dandy. Until the ropes holding his cargo snapped, and the supplies rolled and shattered upon the warn road.

He cursed and kicked at the dirt, attempting to collect his cargo. Alas, most of it was too damaged.

Mathieu had spotted the man and his horse from the distance, casually sparing glances at them as he continued forth. He soon heard the snap and crash, saw the man's supplies topple from the horse onto the ground. The breton sped up and approached.

"Need help? Hm, it seems a lot of them aren't barely worth picking back up..." The tone he spoke in was level, monotone and uncaring.

The man finished his cursing upon noticing Bellamont, "If you would, that would be great. Damn bumpy road..."

Mathieu nodded. He peered all around the area - no one else here. As the stranger was bending over to retrieve more of his cargo, Bellamont lurched. Tackled the man to the ground, spun him on his back. Freed his war axe from its holster, and in one fluid motion brought it down upon the man, splitting open his skull.

While the man was certainly dead, his limbs spasmed and twitched. The sudden movement started his horse, which sent the beast galloping away in panic.

Mathieu did not bother to stop the horse. Dislodging his axe, he hauled the man up over his shoulders, and wandered off from the road. The breton would soon reach the river he and Shealyne were at earlier. He spotted her robes. Hm, was she planning on coming back here to retrieve them? She certainly wouldn't forget. And if that was the case, he could not be here. So he walked past the spot. Just a small ways, over and down a small hill and near the shoreline.

It wasn't the most hidden place. Some poor sod could just happen across Mathieu if they wanted to go for a swim... But the man didn't care. He was tired of thinking.

Mathieu gorged himself; slicing, chopping, tearing, he ate the flesh and blood as if it'd slip away from his hands any second. In this moment there was nothing but him and his aggression, which he transferred into the force and frenzy of his movements. His stomach quivered; he would get sick once or twice. After all, he hadn't done this for awhile now, especially without Eola much by his side these past weeks, so he'd grown less tolerant. Yet it didn't deter him. He'd recover and continue on until he was satiated.

* * *

Shealyne was busy putting a smiley face upon Wilfred. It was a damn fine smiley face if she had anything to say about it. Though the woman wondered when to go get her robes. She didn't want to go get them and miss Eola and Demodius, or have Mathieu come back to find her not there after she said she would be. Eh. She could get them once everyone was ready to leave.

...eh, fuck it. Going to get her robes wouldn't take too long. It wasn't like the river was far from Solitude, anyway, so the trip would be short. Then she hopefully wouldn't miss anyone. Yay!

The woman put her dress in her satchel. Wilfred wouldn't fit, so Shealyne decided to carry the pillow-child. The Sauveterre thought about leaving Wilfred, but what if someone stole him? Then she would have a pillow-child snatcher to track down...not that she knew who would want to steal a pillow.

Items gathered, the red head then left to retrieve her robes, humming as she carried Wilfred.

Ugh. She felt like such an innocent child carrying around a stuffed toy...

As Shealyne made her way to leave the inn, she noticed Idolrum. Oh, ballsack. Just what she needed...

The woman simply attempted to get passed the Nord without being see. She was sure he didn't want to deal with her ass.

The Nord didn't seem to pay much attention to anything, continuing to stare at the paper for a moment before looking up to find an empty table. He found Shea instead. ... Fuck him... "General Tullius has been asked by your mother, Elizabeth Sauveterre, to provide you an escort for your travels." He began, sounding much like the dutiful soldier he was supposed to be. "For...whatever reason, I got the short end of the stick." He finished, sounding oh so less than enthused about the whole ordeal.

Shealyne blinked, narrowing her eye slightly, "I do not need an escort. Why does she think I need such? How long are you to escort me?"

What the fuck? Why? The Sauveterre was confused. Never mind the fact that it was her very recently made ex lover...

"Something about keeping you in the same shape you are now until she can get you another suitor. And, up until then is how long." He replied, holding up the paper with his orders, the Legion symbol at the bottom, alongside the signatures of Tullius and Elizabeth, or what he'd assumed was her signature anyways.

Shealyne once more narrowed her eye. The fuck did keeping her in the same shape mean? Sex?

"Pfff! May as well put a chasity belt on me. Regardless, I am going to get my robes. I assume that means you will come?" Though the woman did not stop to wait for an answer. She was already making her way out the door.

"How's about we just settle for alive with all your fingers and toes?" Idol suggested dryly, folding the paper and putting it away. "And yes, unfortunately."

Shealyne said nothing. Rather, she just huff as she made her way out the inn. She saw no point in speaking. Thus, and did not speak as they went through the city. Nor did she speak as they walked along the road. Upon nearing the river, and seeing her robes, the Breton merely bent down, folded it, and forced it into her already too stuffed satchel, "...There!"

...hmmmmm. Why did she smell blood on the wind?

Idol just stayed quiet as he followed, staying close enough to see and speak, but otherwise, doing nothing else. He noticed her hesitating but figured maybe she was waiting for what's his dick. Or someone else. Whatever.

Faint splashing of water could be heard from over the hill where Idol and Shealyne were at. Mathieu had finished some time before they came, and after he disposed of the now mutilated man (and the pieces cut off him) into the sea where the slaughterfish could feast on the remnants, he began washing the blood off his face, gloves, and robe. But the latter two were difficult. He couldn't fully wash the stains from them. And there was now a pool of blood on the shore, though the waves seemed to be eagerly lapping it up.

Shealyne remained quiet, debating. Mathieu did ask her not to follow him...but she doubted he was up to any good. Hmmm...she wasn't sure if to approach or not. Ah, to Oblivion with it.

"You can stay here if you wish. Or not. I do not care." The Sauveterre spoke to Idolrum, and made her way towards the sound of splashing water.

"Just scream if its dangerous." Idol answered. He wasn't getting paid to give a shit what she did. He just had to make sure she didn't die or get disfigured any more than she was already.

Bellamont cleaned up his clothes the best he could, and upon standing up and turning from the water, he noticed Shealyne approach. The man blinked. Well, he expected her to come soon for her robes. After a moment he gave a small smile.

"Ah, I assumed you were returning here. Just in time. My, business, has just, concluded."

Then Mathieu walked up and hugged her. He was tentative in giving a kiss, for she'd most certainly taste the blood on him, but... The vampire likely scented it on his breath, anyway. Even a mortal tended to detect that.

Oh. Okay. She was being hugged. Shealyne wasn't expecting that. Well, at least Mathieu wasn't mad anymore. Or seemed to be. That was a good thing! The woman returned the hug with one arm, since the other was busy holding Wilfred, "Please do not kiss me. I might vomit." The Sauveterre spoke, before pulling away.

The Breton then held up Wilfred the pillow-child, the simple, tiny pillow showing off its smiley face. Unblinking, "...This is Wilfred."

"... I'd expect so." Mathieu said. He tilted his head at Wilfred, blinking, "... A, pillow?"

"Yes. A pillow. It was like a running gag that Wilfred be treated like a real child. Do not ask..." Shealyne spoke, putting Wilfred back down, "Ah, but bad news. Idolrum is coming with us. He has been tasked by Tullius on behalf of Mother to...make sure I keep my shape? Whatever that means. Until she finds another suitor."

... Oh. And for a moment Mathieu thought the whole suitor ordeal could be behind them. At least for awhile. "Hmph. What are the odds?... And by that, I'm sure she means don't get anymore... Scarring -" He gestured to his own left eye to point it out, then scowled, "- tch! That whore..."

"I assumed she meant pregnant. But more scarring or disfigurement works, too." Shealyne nodded in agreement, once more holding out her free hand for her Brother to take, "I assume the others are ready, now, yes?"

Mathieu accepted her hand. "I'm unsure where Eola and the argonian are. I'd, hope they'll return soon..."

"Bah, do not worry. I believe they are already here." The Sauveterre spoke, turning in the direction where she sensed them.

Eh. She figured she could call Idol to get his ass over here, too, "Idol! You can come here!"

"Oh, how lucky." Eola mumbled. She walked towards Mathieu and Shealyne (and that weird smiley pillow Shealyne was holding,) the male breton soon noticing. "We're here. With a surprise addition." She pointed to the spider.

Mathieu smirked, "Not to worry, about that. We have someone else, too, that joined... Unexpectedly."

"Ah, we're making lots of friends today" Demodius jokingly said "So I hope you guys are ready to go?"

"We are." Shealyne nodded, spying the little spider, "Awe. How cute. You should name it Scuddles."

"Scuddles?" Said Eola. "I haven't really put my mind to a name. I was likely going to go for... 'Bait'. I doubt it may last against the draugr - but who knows... Sure. Why not Scuddles."

Demodius just listened staying reletively quiet. Hopefully they'll go soon.

"Ha! Yay, Scuddles!" The Sauveterre cheered, "Which direction do we need to go?"

As Mathieu unrolled his map, Eola was already repeating the simple directions, "South of the Solitude docks. Somewhere west of Morthal."

"Through the marsh then, I assume... Lovely."

Mathieu had only needed to tread through Morthal's region once, but he certainly remembered - the man would not sleep a wink there no matter how many other capable people were with him this time.

"A trek through the marsh, great." Demodius sighed.

Idol supply followed the voice until he reached the group. Ugh, reduced to a damn watchdog. This was certainly not how he envisioned spending his newfound bachelorhood. Probably healthier, but not what he'd planned. For the fact he'd have his ass arrested for refusing the orders of his commanding officer, he'd have told the Imperial to shove this little job up his ass.

"Well, you have the map, Mathieu. Lead the way." Shealyne spoke. She didn't think she ever visited Morthal before. It sounded ugly.

Demodius waited to follow them wherever they needed to go.

Bellamont greeted Idol with a simple, acknowledging nod as he joined the fray. He then glanced around to everyone as if to assure everything was in check before treading past Eola and Demodius. "... We'll get ferry boats from the docks. Cut across the water, right into the marsh. Easier, that way."

Idol just stayed quiet, listening to them debate. Whatever. He just wanted to get it done with.

"Sounds swell enough." Shealyne spoke, beginning to make her way towards the docks. At least she knew she wasn't sea sick.

And so the group of five - six? seven? If they counted Wilfred and Scuddles - did exactly that. It was no trouble; besides the strange ganders the dock workers spared at the varied bunch, the extra cost of two boats and cramming six people onto those very small ferries, they'd step onto the marshlands soon and safely. The sky darkened as they made their way, forewarning rain, but that could've been the region itself. The land under them was soupy and held far more puddles and ponds than earth; heavy fog obscured their vision from only a few feet ahead of them.

"Ugh...this is just like Blackwood..." Shealyne muttered upon having her boot get stuck in the viscous mud. The earth didn't want to let go of her boot. With a sudden tug, a wet squelch was heard as she ripped her boot free, "Just with...less foliage and more dead trees..."

Hmmm. She better not drop Wilfred in this mud. Then Shealyne would have to arrange it so that the pillow-child was perpetually frowning. Because she would never be able to get the pillow clean again. The woman ended up putting her Silencer robes back on in order to prevent her clothes from getting dirty. With space in her satchel, the red head simply stuffed Wilfred inside. For his own protection, of course.

Demodius walked, his feet getting stuck but he didn't stand around to let them sink to much, "Ya... not the best place to live. So where to now?"

"Now we simply continue, forward. Into Morthal. Preferably." Bellamont spoke. The sounds of bugs and creatures not yet visible to the group hummed all around them. Eerie, with the fog and all.

"Preferably..." Shealyne murmured, though began to walk ahead of the group. Fog or no, vampirism had benefits. Like seeing life forces. Though the woman avoided looking at the others. She'd just see a giant fucking mass of blue blobs. That would hurt her poor eye.

Demodius followed the vampire but then suddenly asked "SO, Eola mentioned something about you using word walls, what's that all about?" he asked Mathieu.

"That? Well, that's due to me being, Dragonborn. I have dragon blood in my veins - and, apparently, that means I subconsciously, understand their language? And use their power through my voice. As they do. The word walls just tend to, react to me due to my blood, I suppose..." Mathieu looked to Demodius, "If that makes sense to you, yes?"

"Dragons speak?" he asked "Everytime I hear them they are just roaring and breathing fire?" Maybe roaring was their language.

"Apparently so. When they breath fire, or frost, they speak their language, from what I've heard... Sometimes, at least. Their words have powers. And they have many words, just like us."

"Well I guess they just aren't that sociable. If they can talk and just destroy they can't be that friendly." Demodius sighed, then paused for a moment then asked "SO you're the Dragonborn? Are all those stories the Nords spout out true?"

Mathieu grunted, "Hm, depends on what they're spouting out. That I killed a dragon? Melted its flesh and absorbed its soul? Called by the Greybeards to their mountain? Yes, those are true."

"Those are the normal ones, they say you can topple down mountains with your voice, cause the weather to change, with your voice, and slay dragons in your sleep... with your voice" He explained.

"-Pfft!" Mathieu nearly chuckled, "No. Not exactly. I merely found that I was Dragonborn, months ago. I haven't attained that much power... Yet."

"Yet?'" he raised an eyebrow at the man, curious if he was serious, or thought he could do that.

"I think you are confusing him with Ulfric. He goes by many titles, after all, yes? The Killer of Kings. The True King of Skyrim. The Untier of Bras..." Shealyne shrugged.

A snicker could be heard from Eola at Shealyne's comment.

"I'm unsure if I could do those things. But I can obtain more power. Much, much more, power... But it is a waiting game. Waiting, waiting, waiting..." Mathieu's voice steadily lowered into a murmur as he spoke. After a minute, he spoke again, "But that is why we're going to this ruin. It is for me, at least... Why do you come? Adventure? Treasure?"

"Treasure, need for money, the usual." Demodius explained simply. He heard Shealyne comment and chuckled at the dumb name.

"Ah. Reasonable goal." Mathieu said.

"Ya, hopefully it's a decent haul." Demodius explained "You don't have to worry about me stealing your mystical word."

"Hmmmm. Demodius, you are not with the mute Argonian girl?" Shealyne asked.

De sighed quietly for a moment "Ya, we decided to split up... mutually, for her safety." He looked very sad saying that.

"Her safety?" The woman echoed.

"You remember what happened when you, me and Ruccia fought that dragon? She saw that... and she didn't have a paralysis spell like you... so we both chose to break up for her safety." He explained sadly.

"Oh. I see. Yes, you were quite violent..." The woman murmured.

Mathieu was somewhat curious as to what Shealyne and Demodius were referring to. Something that happened with him in that Dragon Bridge dragon attack Shealyne had told him of, obviously. But he did not speak. Rather, he viewed his map, squinting at it through the fog, while focusing on the ground and trying not to step in a mud hole.

Eola had a gist of it. She figured what happened was that odd killing-mode Demodius described. She, like Mathieu, was quiet and tried not to sink in the marsh.

"Ya..." He sighed out, agreeing with her.

"Well...it is for the best. No need to harm an innocent girl." Shealyne spoke, "It was good she recognized the danger."

Idol almost made a comment about the two lizards coming to a mutual agreement instead of one making the decision as a whole, but no. No he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't say anything, in fact.

"I was the one who suggested it first." Demodius said, "She agreed after some talking."

"Well, that is good. Though why did you not just focus on avoiding what angers you?" Shealyne questioned. That would be the easiest. Hmmm. She would have to ask Mathieu why he ate people. And ask him why in Oblivion he clearly ate someone when he wanted to be left alone. She figured that was what he would do, since he told her she may be disgusted. But...why? Was it an urge? An impulse? A response to stress? She would have to ask.

"Because I do mercenary work, and so did she. We... we took a contract to go kill a werewolf... turns out there was actually two, stragglers from the culling down in Falkreath... got intense, and... I was pushed too far." He explained.

Eola noted Idolrum's long-kept silence, and turned her head the imperial soldier's way. "You've been awfully quiet. Idol, was it? I don't think I've heard a peep from you."

Ah crap...he didn't want to talk, but he couldn't be rude either. Damn having to be a good little soldier...

"My job is to watch, not speak." He answered politely to Eola. "If it makes anyone uncomfortable, I can try to rectify it." Ugh, and he had to speak like he had some sense, not like his normal self. Ugh! He hated all this 'be formal and polite while on the job so people got a good impression of the Legion' bullshit.

But damn if he didn't have a knack for it. Or so he'd been told.

"Awe...poor lonely Demmy." The Sauveterre cooed, as if in tease, "Without a woman..."

Demodius just looked to her with a smile, "Since when do you joke and tease with me?" He found it a bit surprising that she was doing that, but he answered further, "Ah well, I'm young, perhaps I'll find someone else who has paralysis, or isn't afraid... or maybe I'll find someone in the second half of my life when i retire." He doubted he'd retire any time soon, he was only good at mercenary work.

"Ah. A bodyguard." Eola said, "But, I do not mind. Speak when you wish. I simply almost forgot you were here."

"Ah, I see." Was all the soldier replied for now. Perhaps it was best he was forgotten about while he did this little job. Cause he sure as shit didn't wanna be doing it.

"Well...you do look like a skeleton. Not quite, but almost..." Shealyne shrugged her shoulders. He must have a skinny little willy, "You should eat more. Or a dragon may make you extra crispy thinking you are a piece of jerky."

Demodius huffed hearing that, "Ke'reve kept trying to make me bulk up, it's not my fault, the same changes that make me extra strong, and give me intense healing, also causes me to be skinny. Don't know why." he shrugged, "As for my 'willy' I'm not gonna boast, but it's not small. I'd show you, but I feel your boyfriend wouldn't approve." His tone clearly wasn't serious anyway, and he still thought Idol was her boy toy.

"Yes. I believe I wouldn't." Mathieu piped up to Demodius, tone flat.

One day...one day could not pass before dicks were talked about. How freaking lovely and awkward this was...

"Oh? You are her new boyfriend... interesting." He shrugged though, "Meant nothing by it, I promise you." Wanting to reassure the man.

Nor the fact she had another bed warmer. Jeeez these people moved fucking fast. Hey, maybe at this rate they'd run out if stuff to talk about. Then they could just be quiet. That would be just dandy by Idol.

Mathieu shrugged, "Oh, it is fine." And spoke nothing more of the matter.

In the near distance, a blue light could be spotted amongst the fog. Though hard to discern, it appeared strangely human in shape and figure. Yet it seemed cold air flowed around it, its form nearly seeming to dissolve into the fog, while at the same time staying together.

Demodius saw the strange shape. Was he just seeing things? Did anyone else see that?

Shealyne just shrugged, "No thank you. I am not Ruccia." The Breton shrugged her shoulders before spying the odd figure, "Is that a ghost?"

De was about to ask what happened to her but saw the figure, and with Shealyne also seeing it he said, "You see it too, good."

"It... Seems so?"

Bellamont moved past Shealyne, seeking to try and come closer to the perceived ghost and make it out better. It apparently had its back turned, because as soon as Mathieu took a step two white orbs among the blue snapped towards the group. It's eyes. Still, its face was too marred in the fog to see.

Shealyne summoned mana to her palm in case the creature was hostile. She wouldn't be surprised if it was, "Be cautious."

Demodius drew his sword... for all the help it would bring for fighting a ghost.

Eola readied her own magic. Mathieu drew the dagger of numbing... And just as they did that the ghost was gone - dispersed within the haze. A chill ran up Mathieu's spine, creating goosebumps, and he felt as if the temperature dropped for only a second before it returned to normal. As minutes rolled and with no sign of the figure, the call of the marsh creatures grew louder and quicker, as if in a sudden panic. Or coming closer to the group alarmed and hostile?

"Ghost, in the fog, in a swamp. Original." Idol commented, keeping a hand on his sword, despite it disappearing. Though whether he was serious or sarcastic was unsure.

The Sauveterre produced an odd noise from her throat. She didn't like this. Her hackles were rising, and that was never a good thing...

The woman once more summoned her Dremora Lord, who was still right vexed at the woman due to earlier.

Demodius readied himself listening for anything, he had that bad feeling in his gut.

Idol simply drew his sword, eyes looking around to see if there was anything visible to spot or notice in this stupid ass fog.

Scuddles shifted and rattled in an anxious panic. It sidled around to its backside, Eola following its gaze - and quickly lunged to the side, missing a massive set of chaurus mandibles by an inch.

One by one, chaurus crept forth. Some broke through the fog to directly attack the group, others keeping distance and lobbing poison. Mathieu just barely evaded two globs of toxin and the splashes it created from when it hit the ground. He cursed - dammit, he was regretting not bringing his shield this time.

Demodius saw the Chaurus suddenly begin to attack and dodged the toxin, he was not gonna get poisoned again today.

The Dremora Lord grunted at being hit with some poison. While it failed to get passed his armor, it certainly made the summon angry. Claymore hoisted, the Dremora charged forth at one of the offending creatures, "I will. Splay. Your stomach open. With your own damn mandibles!"

Shealyne ignored the angry ranting of her Dremora. Rather, she was busy ramming Dawnfang right through the maw of a chaurus, the creature hissing and squealing as it was set ablaze. The only problem was, the Sauveterre was having difficulty pulling her blade back out.

What...what were these things?

Aw man...Idolrum hated these damn things. They made the weirdest noise, and they hurt like a son of a bitch, not to mention the poison. Well, less thinking, more swinging. Now he had something to vent on...

Demodius was having a hard time cleaving these things, their hard shells weren't easy to get through, but he was still hurting them bad. He too was finding it hard to remove his sword occasionally.

It was soon revealed it wasn't only chaurus attacking; some spiders had joined the fray as well. Eola, casting a greenish protective veil over herself, began spraying simple flame and spark spells at the creatures, as to not waste magicka shooting at something she couldn't see. Mathieu had to resort to dual-wielding his axe and dagger and using agility to try and pick them off. It wasn't the best option, given the chaurus' hard shells and numbers and the fact he had no gods damn protection if poison did hit him. But it was the only option.

Pah! Serves him right. He should've brought a shield. And a warhammer, maybe...

Demodius had to resort to using his tail blade fighting off the various enemies, but his tail blade could only really stop the spiders, not big enough and powerful enough to hurt chaurus and get through their shells. It wasn't enough and got bit by a charus.

"RAAAAAAH!" With his anger he cleaved through the Chaurus despite its armor. He suddenly began humming a calm tune as he fought.

Ugh. Fuck these armored insects! First an ugly shield wielding elf creature and now these armored beasts? Shealyne was not adept at taking down armored targets. It didn't help that she had no form of armor on her. Dawnfang was a powerful weapon, but it could do little when it came to piercing the creatures' armor. If anything, Dawnfang would just set them on fire. And then very angry, armored, and aflamed creatures were wandering around. The only chance the Sauveterre had of killing these creatures was by introducing her blade to their maws. And being that close to these creatures made her uncomfortable.

It made her even more uncomfortable when an armored insect bit into her arm. And she was pretty sure she heard a bone crack. A lightning bolt to the face was enough to convince the creature to let go. Followed by an introduction to Dawnfang.

Ow...Sithis damn these creatures!

It was then the Breton heard Demodius humming. Damnation. That meant he was getting angry. The woman would have to keep an eye on him.

Idol kept fighting with the chaurus bugs. Not the spiders. Spiders were easy, they could save them for last. These chitin plated bugs needed to be dealt with.

Eola jolted up in pain when a poison splashed all over her leg, and a burning sensation coursed through. But she did not falter in her fighting. She turned and tried helping Demodius fend off his enemies.

Mathieu noticed another rush of cold sweeping over him. He was targeting one chaurus, delivering blows to one spot to break through its armor. He didn't notice it. A large, winged bug, much in the likeness of a chaurus, charged forth from the fog with great speed. It hovered around Mathieu. Attempted jabs and slices with its scythes and bumbling away before the man could catch it with his axe. Tch! What a pest! What... Was it, though?

Demodius appreciated the help, but with this new thing on the scene he was worried. He had no range so he'd be useless against this flying thing.

Shealyne noticed the bumbling flying thing. While she normally would have launched a lightning bolt at it, she didn't want to risk friendly fire on any of her comrades. Thus, the woman launched a paralysis spell at the odd flying insect.

Her Dremora was now doing a majority of the fighting for her. And was doing a damn better job at it than she ever could.

Great...it was just like traveling with his ex and her dumb new boyfriend, chaos every fucking where-chaurus, spiders, weird flying chaurus looking things. Oh, and look, it was bugging what's his face.

Too bad Idolrum couldn't help, too busy with his own onslaught of bugs - and fuck he got poison on himself, great, that was gonna leave yet another gods damned scar probably. He may as well be one giant walking scar...

The insect, unfortunately, swiftly evaded the paralysis spell. Though more luckily, the creatures were soon dwindling in numbers. A few directly fighting. More out within the haze.

Seeing the numbers faultering made Demodius' rage dissipate more and focus on their nearing victory, he was somewhat ignoring the pain, and poison in his scales. He continued to cut through everything in front of him.

Shealyne began to fight less and less as she noticed the numbers dwindle. Her Dremora could certainly clean up the rest. Hmmm. She wondered if that ghost thing caused the creatures to attack?

In a way, good for the damn things leaving. At the same time, Idolrum wasn't finished being adequately violent yet. Oh well, he'd just have to punch something else until he felt better, later.

"Everyone all right?" He asked, surveying his comrades while still keeping an eye out for danger. Did he really care about the others? No. However, and he hated it, he was worried about Shea. She had no armor and her Dremora had just kinda fucked off elsewhere.

But he wouldn't show worry. He couldn't. Why should he? He shouldn't even feel worried, dammit!

Great, see now he had to deal with the anger he couldn't finish getting out just now. Good, great, grand, wonderful.

Demodius panted ripping his sword from his last target, "I'm still standing." He'd made it through the fight despite having a healing bite in his side, and poison in his system.

Eola began to limp as she fought. The poison took its toll. Despite that, she answered Idol with a "Yep. Just... Fine..."

Mathieu was gone. Letting the others finish off what little remained in their area, Mathieu waded through the fog to search for the other poison hurling chaurus.

Demodius turned to Eola, "You alright?"

Shealyne paused after hurling a fireball at an insect, "Fine." Well, minus her arm. But she was still fine.

Was the fighting over yet? She hoped so.

"Just, some poison. All over my leg." Eola said. She had to sit down now, on the body of a dead chaurus. The woman almost buckled over doing so.

There was still the flying chaurus to take care of. As well as the obscured, distant chaurus. And some spiders. The flying insect flew in circles around the group to spew its poison - then it suddenly reared and charged at Idolrum.

De was about to answer Eola when he noticed the giant bug charging Idol.

"Hey watch out!" De noticed it charge, but Idol would have to save himself.

Shealyne moved over to Eola, a healing spell already within her palm, "Do you require aid?" Probably. Though it would probably be more beneficial to wipe off the poison.

"It could help."

Like Shealyne had thought, Eola was working on getting the slime off her leg. She had to duck and swerve to avoid the flying charus' own toxins, and due to that she would not be able to help Idol in time when the chaurus dashed at him.

Idol's gaze flicked towards the flying bug, and he moved to make a wide, horizontal swing at it with his sword, hoping the poison hadn't slowed down his reaction time.

Demodius went to go help Idol, as much as he could against a flying creature.

While Idol wasn't fast enough to sever the insect, he did make a deep cut into it's side near its wing. It staggered. Dropped from the air a bit, but managed to catch itself. The insect darted forth and assaulted Idol with a flurry of jabs with it's scythes.

Demodius saw him almost take advantage but the bug recovered so he ran forward. It began attacking Idol, so De took his chance to catch it while it wasn't expecting the attack. He made a heavy down swing planning to hit and ground it, if it happened to survive. His blade smashed down at the bug hoping he'd hit and the bug wouldn't notice.

Hey, he hit it, yippee. But there wasn't time to celebrate. He tried to make another swing at it before it recovered,and he had to resort to trying to block some of the scythes strikes with his free arm while still attempting to swing at it.

Demodius' blade was wrought down upon the bug a second too late for the insect to counter. It caught the edge. Swung down with the blade and crashed into the ground. Blood and guts spilled out as the blade sliced firmly into its body, along with the wounds Idol had left. The chaurus creature was left twitching and struggling to recover.

Demodius ripped his blade out of the insect and looked to Idol, "You okay?" Meanwhile he had poison in his scales and a wound that was nearly healed up by now.

Aye, jeez that shit hurt. "Yeah, fine." He answered, inspecting his arm for a second before looking at the now dead nuisance. "Thanks for the assist, you did good." He thanked the Argonian.

De just nodded to him, "No problem" He sheathed his sword hoping the onslaught was over.

"I'd keep your blade out..." Idol told him. "Whatever's left in the fog may not stay hidden."

De sighed, "Dammit... after all that and not killing any of us they'll keep coming?" he asked more to himself

* * *

The Sauveterre focused on healing Eola's leg once the poison was wiped off. Or mostly wiped off. She wasn't sure what the poison actually did, but figured a Restoration spell could only help. The red head knew how their bites hurt. She assumed their spit was just as bad.

Wait...

...Where the fuck did Mathieu go?

Ugh. If he got hurt again, Shealyne wouldn't be happy. It would be his dumb ass fault for going away from the group.

"Your leg feel better?" Shealyne asked Eola. She hoped the spell did at least something.

Eola stretched and swung her leg to test it. "It does... Thank you."

And there was quietness. Dead chaurus and spiders surrounding them, no more globs of poison spilling forth from the unknown. It seemed Mathieu had done some work in hunting the rest down - or at least averting their attention from the group to him... Though no sight or sound of him was made known.

Another chill wind passed, this time over Shealyne, yet it stayed there... And there was a voice. A deep, masculine drawl with no visible maker; it drummed right into her ear as though someone stood right beside her. "Was this an adequate challenge for you?... I surmise it wasn't. Alas, you had your companions with you. I must catch you alone some day - truly test your meddle. I have no doubt you may be just as deadly as you were, back when I once considered you... My protege." The voice then chuckled.

And just like that, Shealyne paled.

No.

Nononononono.

"Lucien...hello, my Dearest Speaker." The woman murmured. Lucien Lachance, haunting her. Watching her. Hunting her.

She would know that voice anywhere.

Anywhere.

Where was Mathieu?

Idol scanned the fog, noting nothing else was coming. "And we're missing someone," He muttered. "Should I go look for him?"

Eola snapped her head towards the direction of that bodiless voice, bemused. She still answered Idol's question, "Erm... Wait a moment. See if he reappears on his own..."

Hey, great, Idol didn't want to go look for the fucker anyways. Before he could make any sort of reply, he hard something...off. A different voice. But...no one here had a voice like that.

"Hm. Here you still muster enough respect to greet me as Speaker, still? I am grateful. Flattered. Though I'm afraid I cannot do the same for you. You've forfeited that right." Lucien said.

"And I would expect no less, Speaker Dear. After all the things I have done, that cannot be undone. I suppose I should be honored that the great Lucien has shown himself to me. Hmmmm...Lucien, dear, may I ask you a question?" The Sauveterre asked. Though she did not bother to wait for a reply, "How fairs the dear Listener?"

At the . to Shea, and get actually speaking, the man turned to face her, grip tightening on his sword. Someone threatening Shea was enough to trigger him to feel protective and rise his anger again, despite how he actually wanted to feel. He wanted to feel indifferent, to not care. But he knew that wasn't possible right now. Damn emotions...

Were he visible, one could see Lucien smiling. "I haven't the chance to see her quite yet... But she fares well. Sithis is most pleased with her; our gratitude to you, dear Shealynetta, for gifting us with such a loyal child..."

It didn't take much for Idol to piece together what they were talking about. Shea had said Runa was the Listener when she spoke of finding out she was alive and wanted to take Shea's remaining eye. So...this Lucien knew who Runa was... Why was he after Shea then?

The woman snorted slightly, "You are most welcome, Speaker. It is good. To hear your voice again. Alas, I am sure you have better things to do that speak with a former Sister, correct, Lucien?"

"Ah, of course... I have the tip of my blade on your throat. However, I will merely await the Listener's word to plunge it into you. As for Bellamont, I have done what I deem fit with him - an eye for an eye? Just be aware, no matter how much time has passed, the Void will take you in the end... Goodbye, Shealynetta."

The cold lifted from the small area. As Lucien padded off into the marsh, his invisibility spell wore off, appearing once more as a blue spectre.

"Sounds like he may have hurt our guy, I'm gonna go take a look for him." Idolrum offered, tearing his eyes away from the spectre, glancing over at Shea for a second before he'd start squelching away in the mud.

Not that he wanted to, but he kept him from fulfilling the urge to check if Shea was handling everything okay.

Shealyne frowned at that. Is that why Mathieu was gone? Did Lucien get him? Hurt him? While they were busy with the bugs?

"Find him." Was the Sauveterre's only spoken words as she trudged off into the mist as well. Though her tone held a shaken quaver to it, as if her nerves were rattled. Which they probably were, "Mathieu!"

"You should get your arm mended." Idol recommended to her. Though she would probably wait until they found dear fucking Mathieu first. Stubborn woman...

Now, which way had that dodgy fucker walked off towards?

Picking a random direction he began looking around.

Eola went off to search as well, splitting off slightly from the others. Scuddles followed her. Because apparently it was able to either hide or fight and survive the onslaught.

"... Lachance! Come here and face me!" Mathieu's voice came from the mist, more in the general direction of Idol and Shealyne. But the shout was faint. Too faint to truly determine if he was in pain or not.

Shealyne skidded to a halt as she heard her Brother's voice, gasping slightly. There! Thank Sithis he was alive!

"Mathieu!" The red head called into the mist, turning to head in the direction of the voice. Ugh! Fuck this mud! In her haste, the woman nearly tripped and face planted several times.

... Or she could just ignore him. That worked too. So worried was she over Mathieu. "Keep shouting so we can find ya!" Idolrum yelled towards the voice, sounding helpful and all even though he could care less.

Eola heard as well, and she waded into the direction of Idol and Shealyne. Then she chose to command Scuddles to crawl forward along that path.

There wasn't a call in response. Perhaps he hadn't heard them?

And...of course they didn't get an answer back. Of fucking course... "Son of a bitch..." Idol grumbled. "C'mon, Dammit, answer!"

Shit!

Fuck!

Mother cunt!

He wasn't answering! Why wasn't he answering?

An eye for an eye...

Sithis...what if he was dead? Dead? Could it be? Could Lucien have...or even the other members? Just like at Applewatch?

Shealyne did not cease in her movement towards the last direction in which she heard her Brother's voice, "Mathieu! Answer! Answer, you fuck!" The woman hissed.

Sithis, where was he?

* * *

**An eye for an eye, as they say, yes?**

**Thank you for reading thus far and putting up with our shitty characters! :D**

**If you have any feedback, feel free to share and let us know! **


End file.
